


Dimensions

by WrecklessImagine



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Lost - Freeform, Lost Love, Love, Portal - Freeform, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:07:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 30,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5613418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrecklessImagine/pseuds/WrecklessImagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a portal opens in the middle of DC, the BAU is thrown into one of the biggest mysteries and curiosities of their career.  But what happens when a woman rises from the ashes of the wreckage claiming fantastical stories about every one of the members of the team?</p><p>And what happens when Spencer falls for her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wreckage

Breathing shallow as your head swirls, you feel a warm sensation drip from your nose as you roll over and groan.

“Ma’am?” a voice calls out as a fuzzy object waves in front of you.

The voice sounds so familiar.

“Ma’am, can you hear me?”

Furrowing your brow as you tighten your grip around your bag, you slowly roll over as you perch on all fours, wanting desperately to get up but feeling as if you had been turned upside down and shaken from the heavens.

“What the hell was that?” another voice asks.

“Did she come from it?” someone else mumbles.

Breathing deep as your raging stomach settles, you swallow hard as you stand to your feet, your bag swaying at your side as you wobble to and fro.

“Here, let me help.”

That voice.

Why does that voice sound so familiar?

Steadying yourself on the stranger’s hand, you blink away the haziness as your car comes in to view, crushed and rumpled like a discarded soda can as you feel the vomit ebb within your stomach again.

Tilting your head lightly as you look at your car, you see a man with a stern look eyeing your license plate.

“Reid…can you come here?” the man says, crooking his finger as the hand steadying you gives way.

“Here,” he says, passing your hand to a bigger man as he trots over to Mr. Doom 'N Gloom.

As they chat away, pointing at your license plate as the lanky one shakes his head, you furrow your brow as you call out to them.

“It’s a D.C. license plate, guys.”

As they both look back at you, their eyes wide, the man steadying you slowly walks in front, his large hands applied to your shoulders as he says, “No, ma’am, that," he says, pointing to the nearest car, "is a DC license plate.”

Looking over at the foreign object, your clouded mind gives way to clarity and understanding as you shake your head, clutching your bag as you stumble backwards.

“No. No, no, no. T-this can’t be happening. No…no, no, no, NO!!”

Taking off running as you trip over your own feet trying to dodge the wreckage, you bolt for the sidewalk as your feet clamor on the ground, your head swirling as you look around, trying to find the opening as your breath becomes ragged and your head begins to pound.

Feeling a tight grip on your arm, your body is flung around forcibly as a pair of hazel eyes meets yours, causing your body to still to a freeze...your eyes widening and your jaw dropping.

“Ma’am, you probably have a concussion, you need to come with us.”

Now you know why that voice sounds so familiar.

Feeling your eyes mist over as you slowly raise your hand to his cheek, your breath becomes shallow as you swallow hard, trying to keep your tears at bay as you gaze into his eyes.

Those eyes you haven’t seen for so many years.

“Spencer…” you drift off.

Watching him furrow his brow, you find your fingers lazily tracing the lines in his forehead as your memories sweep you away.

As Spencer wildly searches your face, watching you closely as his brain shuffles through all of his day to day scenarios, trying to piece together where he has seen you, he goes to open his mouth as an older gentleman strolls over.

“I think it’s a good idea that you come with us,” he says, slipping his hand to the lower part of your back as he urges you towards an ambulance, your head careening backwards to look at him as the man guides you forward.

“You ok, pretty boy?” Morgan asks, walking up beside him as his gaze darts between you and Reid.

“She…she knows me,” he says, looking over to Morgan as he raises his eyebrows, “And I have absolutely no idea who she is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sighing as you stare out the hospital window, your heart rate monitor beeping with the rhythmic pulse of your life, your head slowly turns as you hear your door open.

Staring at Hotch with a blank expression, he comes over and sits beside you, his torso leaning forward as he sits his elbows on his thighs.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Blinking at him as your face remains stoic, he relaxes back into his chair, trying to get comfortable as he continues to eye you.

“Some things never change,” you say, your eyes searching his as he furrows his brow.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Staying silent at his question, he scoots his chair closer and puts his hand over yours.

Slowly looking down at the gesture of kindness, you feel tears rise once again in your eyes as your gaze slowly works back up to his.

“There are things we're being told…”

As the silence permeates the room, you swallow hard as you ask, “What do you need?”

“There's a meeting,” he says, “A very private meeting that the President is wanting you to be a part of.”

Nodding slowly as you go to swing your legs over the side of the bed, you raise your face to him as you nod.

“Alright, Mr. Hotchner.”

Watching his brow furrow in shock, he pulls his touch back as his face grows stern.

“How do you know my name?” he implores.

“Just a hunch,” you say as you stand to your feet.

“So,” you say as you clear your throat, “…where is this meeting?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking into the room, the door shutting and sealing behind you, you hug your bag close to your body as you slowly walk to the front.

As everyone turns around, their eyes slowly descending upon you, you shake your head incredulously as you chuckle in shock.

“My god,” you breathe as the screen clicks on.

“Good afternoon, Mr. President,” a familiar voice says.

“Derek?” you call out.

As his head whips around, the look of utter shock on his face as he stumbles over his words, his eyes slowly crawl back to the screen as the President eyes you from over the video conference.

“Is that her?” he asks.

“Yes, Mr. President,” Hotch steps forward and answers.

Walking towards the front of the room as you drop your bag, Rossi’s eyes widening as he catches a glimpse of what you are carrying around, his gaze slowly lifts to yours as you smile at him, taking his hand within yours and giving it a little squeeze.

“It is so good to see you,” you whisper to him.

As he looks back at the team and shrugs, you take a deep breath as you begin your introduction.

“Hello, Mr. President. My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, and I am open for questions.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you trying to convince me that a portal from an alternate dimension opened up in the middle of DC, and you careened your car through it and wrapped it around the light pole of another, separate DC in a different reality.”

“Not a different reality, a parallel universe," you correct, "...the theory is that many different universes coincide along this one, similar in its aspects, but each staple is rooted in a fundamental fact that prevails throughout each reality. Take, for example, your presidency.”

As the President furrows his brow, you continue.

“In the reality that I reside in, you are President as well. Just like here. Now, I don’t know much about the campaign you ran here, but I can tell by your tie that you are a Democrat. There, you are Independent. The fundamental fact is your presidency. Everything else is...debatable."

As you watch him chuckle at your statement, you continue on with your ramble, your hands moving at 1,000 miles a second.

“The theory that's being tested right now in my reality is that when two universes collide, it creates a fissure between them, temporarily weakening the fibers that separate the two. We have created tiny millisecond barrier breaks in our Hadron Collider…but never something on this scale.”

As you watch the President try to digest what you are telling him, Morgan steps into the conversation.

“Is that how you know all of us?” he asks.

Turning towards him, a warm smile crossing your face, you nod slowly as your smile encompasses your cheeks.

You can’t remember the last time you smiled like this.

“Yes.”

“Are you a scientist in your dimension?”

Turning slowly at the sound of his voice, your eyes widen as your gaze falls upon his body.

Feeling your jaw begin to tremble, you blink rapidly as a tear threatens to slip down your cheek as you shake your head.

“No. Well…yes and no. I have a doctorate in Physics, but I also have a doctorate in Criminal Psychology. I do research in my spare time at the research lab in DC, but my salary position is actually with the BAU.”

As everyone looks back and forth at each other, you furrow your brow as you put it together.

“You guys are with the BAU as well over here, aren’t you?”

“Yes we are,” Garcia says as you step backwards, your eyes locking on to her wearily as she pauses her movements, her body recoiling at your reaction.

Turning back towards the screen, your eyes staying locked on her just before you whip your head around, you find the President smiling as he chuckles and shakes his head.

“We're going to need you close,” he says, staring you in your eyes as you nod.

“How do you feel about working with this BAU?” he asks, his head nodding at everyone behind you.

Feeling your body shudder as Hotch steps to the forefront, he casts you a side glance as your eyes never falter from the screen.

“If that’s the easiest way to get to me, then that’s where I’ll be.”

“Mr. Hotchner,” the President says, turning his gaze towards him, “If you see it appropriate, she might provide some useful insight for your team.”

“Yes,” he says, turning towards you completely, “I think she will.”


	2. Theories

As you watch the screen cut off, the lights illuminate the room as you shield your eyes, squinting as you try to get your eyes to adjust.

Looking down at the floor, your bag nowhere in sight, you panic as you throw your head around as your gaze quickly descends on Rossi.

“That’s a lot of money you have in there,” he says, zipping your bag back up as the team gathers behind him, eyeing you curiously.

“My life savings,” you say, taking the bag from him as you clutch it close, your gaze casting downwards at your feet.

“Why are you carrying your life savings around with you in a bag?” Hotch asks, his eyebrows permanently fused together.

“Because I have a gambling problem,” you shoot back sarcastically as you scoot around them, clutching your bag closer than ever.

Looking at your feet as you scurry for the exit, your body rams into something strong.

Something stable.

Closing your eyes as you take in the smell of coffee and cologne, your hands begin to tremble as you take a step back, your eyes slowly drifting upward as they begin to drill a hole into his chest as he shuffles from foot to foot.

“I thought there was something off when I didn’t recognize you,” Spencer says.

“Yes…’off’,” you emphasize, shaking your head as you keep your gaze level with his chest, “We have never met.”

“But you two work together in your reality,” Morgan says.

“We all work together in my reality,” you say, looking back over your shoulder as you catch his curious stare.

Pausing as you take a deep breath, you clutch your bag close as you push by Spencer, your body lobbing itself in to the door as you push it open, swinging it into a body as your eyes widen.

“Oh! Oh, my god…I am so sor-”

Reaching your hand down as your words catch in your throat, you watch the brunette get up to her feet, she eyes you curiously as she brushes herself off.

“Not a problem,” she says as she grunts, her gaze imploring as she looks up at you.

“Is this her?” she asks, pointing towards you as she looks over at the team.

Watching as they all nod, she slowly turns her gaze back to you as she takes a deep breath through her nose.

“Oh, wow,” she says, looking you up and down as her eyes grow wider.

“So…” Prentiss asks, her eyes searching your face as you stand frozen in front of her, “Welcome…?”

Feeling your hands start to shake again, you pivot on your feet and go dashing down the stairs, hearing Hotch call out behind you as you stop just short of the last step.

“We need some of your information to get your credentials,” he says, the team looking down at you as you slowly turn around.

“Uh…you, um…you actually want me to work for you?” you stammer.

“Well, you’re going to need an income,” Rossi pipes up.

“And a place to live,” Morgan chimes in.

“And some friends to help you until you can figure all of this out.”

Whipping around as you see J.J., you hold your arms out as you envelope her in a hug, a smile bursting across your cheeks as her eyes widen in surprise.

Hugging her close, you lean your mouth to her ear as you whisper, “I know this means nothing to you, but thank you. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me.”

Pulling back as she gives you a half-smile, her eyes both curious and kind, you look back over your shoulder to Hotch as you nod.

“Alright. What information do you need?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting with Hotch in his office as he takes the information that he can, he sighs as he presses the palms of his hands into his head.

“Alright. Strauss has okay’d the use of one of our safe houses for you to utilize as necessary until you either find a place of your own or find a way back home.”

Home.

You were running from home.

“Thank you very much for that,” you say, smiling light as he brings his gaze to you.

“Be honest with me,” he says, “Is there anyone here that, because of your relationship at home, you can’t work or travel with?”

At home…

“At home” was apparently what we were going to call it.

Turning your head slowly, your eyes drifting over Spencer’s presence out in the hallway, you smile lightly to yourself as your eyes mist over once again as you feel Hotch studying your face with great intensity.

Taking a ragged breath before clearing your throat, you rapidly blink the tears away as you bring your gaze back to him, shaking your head.

“No, Mr. Hotchner, none at all.”

“Alright, then,” he says, pressing his palms in to his desk as he gets up from his chair, “Garcia and Prentiss want to take you shopping for some clothes you can wear, and to do that you will probably need to open a bank account,” he says, grinning as he nods to your bag that is still slung around your shoulder.

“Your smile is beautiful,” you say as your eyes begin to twinkle.

Watching him flush lightly, he sits back down as he sighs.

“I guess I don’t smile over there much?”

“You don’t smile at all,” you say, your face falling as you recall your moments with your prior boss.

Even though he wasn’t your boss any longer.

Well…he was. But not…your version?

This was going to get confusing.

Getting up and starting for the door, you reach out for the doorknob as Hotch takes a deep breath.

“They’re curious, you know.”

Feeling your back tense as you straighten up, you let out the breath you’ve been holding as you twist the knob to the door, throwing it open to the balcony of the office.

“Some stories are better left unspoken,” you say, barely above a whisper, leaving Hotch’s door open as you start your descent down the stairs, your new boss hustling out to the balcony as he eyes your tattered body worriedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You arrived at the safe house that you would call home 5 hours after you had left the office. J.J. had joined the three of you, and together you had set up a bank account, blew threw $2000 on clothing and fashions you had never seen before in your life, dropped another $400 at the grocery store on brands of food that were anything but familiar, and had been handed a work phone with everyone’s number in it.

“In case you get lonely,” is what Garcia had said as she handed it over.

Lonely.

You were used to lonely.

Lonely was the only thing that kept you company recently.

Staring at the flip phone in your hand, you chuckle to yourself as you shake your head.

“I never thought I would ever see one of these again,” you mumble, reminiscing as the girls eye you curiously.

After another hour of hanging up clothes, unpacking grocery bags, and humming to music that was surprisingly familiar, Prentiss turns to you with a glass of wine in her hands, handing you one as she divvies out the rest.

“Alright, so I’m going to ask the question that we all really want to,” Garcia pipes up.

Looking up at her as J.J. and Emily take sips of their drinks, you lean yourself against the kitchen counter as you take a deep breath.

“You want to know what our relationships are like where I come from.”

Watching them nod as their eyebrows skyrocket, their eyes begging for details, you nod for them to go sit on the couch as you grab the box of wine and follow them in to the main living area.

Sitting down as you take a brief pause, you raise your eyes slowly to Garcia.

“You and I don’t have a good relationship.”

Watching as her jaw drops, she looks around as Prentiss and J.J. slowly eye her.

“Well, i-i-it’s not actually me,” she says, leaning forward towards you as she whispers, “Right?”

“Right,” you say, chuckling as you take a sip from your wine glass, “But for the sake of saving your sanity, that’s how I’ll refer to it.”

“Fair enough,” J.J. says.

“I don’t even know why we don’t. We just…never took to one another. Over there you…you don’t really have a sense of humor. You’re constantly getting in trouble, breaking rules and hacking into systems without prior permission…taking advantage of the materials at your disposal to do whatever it is that you do.”

As you raise your gaze to Garcia, you see tears pour down her cheeks as you furrow your brow in pity.

“No, no…please don’t cry,” you urge, your hand reaching out and squeezing her knee, “Like you said…it’s not you…it’s a different you. One with a different backstory and a different upbringing…different likes and dislikes. That Penelope has absolutely no bearing on this one,” you say, motioning your hand up and down at her body as a small smile breaks through.

Hearing her sniffle made your heart ache.

“Well, here…with me me…we’re going to be good friends, I can feel it,” she says, trying to salvage the conversation as she reaches out and catches your hand in hers.

“What about me?” Prentiss asks, already opening the tap on the box for another glass.

“You and I tip-toe around each other. It’s not that we don’t get along, I am just…protective of someone you have eyes for over there.”

“Oooooh, who does other Emily have a crush on!?” J.J. prods, wiggling her eyebrows up and down playfully.

Shaking your head as you smile lightly, you take a sip of your drink as you chuckle.

“Other Emily,” you snort playfully.

“Alright…well what about me? You thanked me for something earlier, and I’m curious to know what you were thanking your J.J. for.”

Bringing your gaze slowly around to her, your eyes sad and dark, you feel your throat begin to constrict as you draw a ragged breath.

“Y-…you helped me,” you stammer, “You helped me through the darkest time I have ever experienced in my life. When the rest of the team continued to move forward, you kept offering your hand back, never pushing me to do something that I didn’t want to do.”

Watching the girls furrow their brows as their expressions sink in to the floor, they reach out for your body as their sympathetic rubs and squeezes prompt tears to rise back in to your eyes.

Feeling the rush of emotion, you lower your gaze to your wine glass as you search for the bottom.

“You were the one that convinced me to close out my bank accounts and liquidate my assets. You said that if I no longer felt at home there, then I needed to get in my car and drive until I felt at home again.”

Feeling the tears slowly start to trickle down your face, your raise your gaze to them as their emotions slowly give way, the alcohol chipping away at their heavy exteriors as their bodies betray them.

Watching them as they jump up from the couch, the three of them come over and embrace you in a hug.

Hearing them chuckle as they pull back, sniffling hard and sitting back down on the couch as they wipe at their eyes, your light chuckles give way to giggling, which slowly switches over to laughter.

And before you knew it, the four of you were breaking out into roars as you all lean back and clutch your stomachs.

“Oh, this is going to be so confusing!” you squeal.

“All of this is so ridiculous,” Emily chokes out as she wipes her tears away.

“I can’t imagine how you must feel,” Garcia breathes as she clutches her stomach.

And as the four of you sit in your makeshift home, your new clothes folded and put away and the wine draining quickly, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket as you take it out, your fingers fumbling with the rock of a phone as you read the scroll screen, your face paling as you recognize the name on your front screen.

_Spencer Reid._


	3. Dinner and Wine

(Part 1 Part 2)

 

Clicking the button on the side of your phone, the call stops vibrating as the girls give you curious looks.

“Who’s calling?” Garcia asks as Prentiss starts to pull her phone out.

Looking up at her from your dipped gaze, you shake your head as a small smirk crosses your cheeks.

“Oh, the family dinner is tomorrow!” Garcia claps as she reads over Emily’s shoulder.

“What family dinner?” you ask, your brow furrowing as you take another look at your phone, only seeing the one missed call.

“Oh, once a month we all go to Rossi’s and he cooks for us and we all dress up nice and drink his wine,” Prentiss says. “It’s a lot of fun.”

“Ah,” you say, clearing out the phone call and plopping your phone in your lap.

“Don’t worry about not having a text message. Rossi always insists on giving his number out in person, so whoever was calling was probably just relaying the message.”

Spencer.

Relaying a message.

Here.

Taking a deep breath, you lean back into your chair as the girls look around at each other.

“Well...tomorrow around 6 we can come get you?” Garcia asks, her voice curving up at the end to indicate the fact that she didn’t know if you were actually going to attend.

“Sure...yeah,” you say, staring off into the corner as they all gather themselves up off of the couch.

Feeling a pat on your shoulder, you smile weakly as you look up to find J.J., her kind eyes staring down at you in a comforting stare.

Always grounded in a root of truth.

“I can’t imagine what you’re experiencing, but we’re here if you need us. All you have to do is call.”

Nodding weakly as you place your hand over hers, she gives your shoulder one last squeeze before heading towards the door, opening it for the other girls before stepping out and closing it softly behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Watching out of the car window as the surprisingly similar world passes by, the chatter of Garcia and Prentiss falls to the wayside as the three of you pull up in to a driveway.

A huge, winding driveway.

Slowly looking forward, your eyes growing at the structure in front of you, they put the car in park and unlock the doors as you stare wide-eyed at the house in front of you.

“This is where Uncle Rossi lives?” you breathe.

“Uncle Rossi?” Prentiss asks, eyeing you in the rear-view mirror.

“Uncle Rossi!?!” Garcia squeals, “Oh, my god...are you two related!?”

Sighing as you shake your head and smile, you push your door open as you step out, Garcia throwing questions behind you with every step you take.

You enjoyed this Penelope very much.

Walking up the steps in your plain yellow dress, the pleated fabric swishing just below your knees as your black and yellow polka-dotted flats glide along the ground, you raise your fist to knock on the door as you hear the ladies ascend the steps behind you.

Knock knock knock.

Watching as the door swings open, you shush Garcia’s constant barrage of questions as Rossi’s face emerges, bright and smiling.

But you quickly swallow your tongue as his voice rings out from the foyer.

“Hey, you guys,” he says as he comes into view, gives a weak wave, “...I didn’t know if you guys were gonna make it.”

Spencer.

Feeling your eyes widen as your breath comes in shallow pants, he looks at you with a weary stare and shuffles on his feet.

“Hi,” he says, giving you a taut-mouthed smile as he waves lightly once again, “I’m Spencer Reid. Uh...Dr. Spencer Reid. Not a medical doctor...but you can call me Reid. Or Spencer. O-or...or whatever it is that you call me when you’re, um...at home.”

Home.

With Spencer.

Home with Spencer hadn’t happened in quite some time.

Staring at him as you concentrate on steadying your breathing, you feel a light shake on your shoulder as you whip your head over to your left.

“Hey...you alright?” Garcia asks, her brow furrowed as she looks between you and Spencer.

“Yeah...yeah I’m alright,” you say, nodding quickly as your words become breathless.

Watching as the girls continue to give you worried looks, Spencer ushers the three of you into the house.

Shrugging your coat off, you hear him shuffle behind you, catching it before it almost hits the floor.

“Here, let me get that,” he says, catching your coat as you turn around to try and catch it yourself.

Feeling something warm and soft beneath your hand, you look down and take in the view of your hand clamped down over his.

It feels exactly how you remember.

Shuddering lightly as you rip your hand back, you blink your eyes rapidly as you whisper, “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“No, no, please...don’t be sorry...i-i-it’s alright,” he says, helping you upright as he turns back and hangs your coat on the coat-rack.

Letting out a ragged breath as you turn towards the rest of the room, the team looking at the two of you in awe and curiosity, your eyes land on Morgan, a sly grin on his face.

“Shut it, Derek,” you say, pointing a finger at him as you raise your eyebrows.

“What!?” he exclaims, laughing as he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“I know that grin...” you say, a smile cracking the corners of your mouth, “Some things don’t change, you know.”

“So you and Morgan are good friends where you come from?” Spencer pipes up, standing slightly behind you as he looks down at your face.

“Mmm, yes. He is my best friend at home,” you say, smiling at his memory.

“And her and Rossi are related!” Garcia squeals as you shoot her a deadly stare.

“Penelope!” you whisper harshly as you see Rossi’s eyes widen.

“We are?” he asks, turning to look at you as you clear your throat nervously. “How are we related?”

Looking up at his face, his eyes pleading to know, you shake your head as you say, “You’re my Uncle. My father was your brother.”

“Was...?” Spencer questions.

Damn it.

“Y-yeah...” you stammer, “We bur-...I mean I...I buried him almost a decade ago.”

“We...?” Spencer says, barely above a whisper as he steps into your view, his breath wafting over the delicacies of your exposed shoulders, you find your knees trembling as you recall his hot breath cascading across your body.

Swallowing hard as a tear escapes your cheek, Hotch steps over and takes your hand.

“We didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” he says, leading you from the door and handing you a glass of wine.

Wine.

These guys love their wine.

“It’s alright,” you say, shaking your head, “I should have better prepared myself last night for the questions.”

The night was actually very entertaining. You got to know your team all over again, and going from being someone that was hated to being someone that was interesting was a nice change of pace.

You wouldn’t have left your job if they were like this.

As they all began to chat around you, Garcia telling them about herself in the other realm, everyone starts to talk over one another about it as they laugh and stipulate over imaginary scenarios.

Feeling your body grow anxious, you scoot your chair out and excuse yourself to the bathroom.

“Down the hall, last door on the left,” Rossi says as he eyes you carefully, his finger pointing behind him in a slightly slurred attempt to guide you through his gigantic home.

Rounding the corner as you broach the long hallway, you break in to a sprint as you run for the door, shutting it quickly behind you as you lock it and slump down in to a corner.

You always enjoyed the cover of darkness.

Taking deep breaths as tears stream down your face, you shake your head as a light sob escapes your lips.

The memories of Spencer come wafting back like a drunken night finally realized as you grasp your knees and pull them to your chest, closing your eyes as you smile at the memory of his hand cradling yours...of his lips lightly pressed against your cheek...

His body glistening in the moonlight...

Shuddering at the thoughts, you come to as you hear a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” Spencer asks.

God, even in this reality, he’s persistent.

Taking a deep breath as you get up, you smooth your dress out as you frantically wipe at your tears, your hand reaching for the knob as the door slowly opens.

“Hey there,” he says.

Giving him a forced smile as you sigh, you swallow hard as he asks you if you are alright.

“I just...uh...”

Watching him as he looks down at the floor, you realize that he’s nervous.

Your Spencer was never nervous. Always confident and very proud.

And the distinction helped.

The differences helped.

This was not your Spencer.

“I just can’t imagine what it must feel like to listen to all of these people that you know, but don’t know, talk about the versions of them that you _do_ know like they don’t exist because if you’re telling the truth, they _do_ exist, and I can see how hurt you are and how scared you are, and I just wanted to come check on you and make sure that you were okay and that you weren’t crying alone or anything, because no one should cry alone, especially when they feel alone and I want you to know that you aren’t alone with us around, and we will help you get home.”

Staring at him incredulously, your eyes widening with every word of his ramble, you lightly chuckle to yourself as you bring your gaze back to his chest.

“What if I don’t want to go home?” you ask breathlessly.

As you slowly look back up at Spencer, his confusion and curiosity ebbing and flowing over his face, you hear Morgan call out down the hallway towards the two of you.

“You guys alright down there?”

Shaking your head lightly as you smooth your dress out, you sniffle hard as you clear your throat, pushing lightly past Spencer as you feel a pressure on your arm.

You would know that touch anywhere.

Slowly turning your head back towards him, his eyes pleading with you, he sighs as he lets you go quickly, his arms dropping in defeat to his sides.

“You look really lovely tonight,” he murmurs.

And as you catch his gaze, your eyes searching his as he gives you a weak smile, you hear Morgan call after the two of you again...something about protection and spare bedrooms...as you slowly find the world falling backwards in time as you feel yourself getting lost in the comfort and safety of his all-too-familiar hazel eyes.


	4. Dilaudid

Sitting back down at the dinner table, you look over at Rossi and smile lightly.

“Thank you for letting me use your restroom,” you say meekly.

“Anytime,” he smiles kindly.

“So! We were all talking abo-...Ow!”

As Garcia glares at J.J., you furrow your brow as she bends down and rubs her shin.

“So,” J.J. says, spearing a bit of her salad from her plate, “How does this DC compare to the one you’re from?”

“It’s actually not that different. I mean, some of my favorite places are in different areas, but they’re all still there.”

“Well, maybe those places will help you feel at ease until we can figure out a way to get you home,” Prentiss muses.

As Spencer’s fork stops midway to his mouth, his gaze faltering over to you, everyone looks over at him as Morgan breaks the silence, your eyes quickly darting over to Spencer before taking a sip of your drink.

“You alright, pretty boy?” he asks.

Choking on your water, you wipe your mouth with the napkin in your lap as you choke out between coughs, “P-pretty...boy?”

“Yeah, that or boy wonder,” J.J. smirks, her eyes dancing over Spencer as he flushes furiously.

“So...y-you’re a doctor over here?” you ask quietly, your eyes diverting to Spencer.

“I mean, I have doctorates...but I’m not a medical doctor. I have 3 Ph.D.’s in a wide range of subjects.”

As your eyes widen, he starts to ramble again.

“Everyone says I’m a genius, but I don’t believe that intelligence is quantifiable. My IQ is 187 but it’s not really an accurate portrayal of how smart someone is. I-I can also process 20,000 words a minute if I need to, but I also have an eidetic memory, so it’s easy to remember things that I read.”

Feeling your jaw slowly drop as he continues on about himself, the team smirks in your general direction as Spencer stops mid-sentence.

“Miss Y/N, are you alright?” Hotch asks.

“Y/N?” Garcia prods.

“Hey, is she alright?” Morgan leans in and asks J.J.

Blinking as you process what he’s told you, you shake your head and laugh incredulously.

“Ho-ho-holy god!” you exclaim, leaning back in your dinner chair and shaking your head.

“Is...is that a good...thing?” Spencer asks, his eyes searching your laughing face as you try to take deep breaths.

“You...you are nothing like what you were back home,” you breathe, trying to catch your breath as you fan your face.

As Spencer looks from Morgan to Hotch, his gaze slowly returns to you as he sets his glass down

“W-were...?”

Swallowing hard as you feel your eyes widen, you try to calm your mind, taking a deep breath as you look at the napkin in your lap. 

Fiddling with it nervously, you feel your chest begin to constrict as you begin to twirl the cloth napkin around your fingers.

“Spencer,” you state, “...you...um...”

Feeling your bottom lip begin to quiver as tears pool in your eyes, you feel someone reach over and take your hand, squeezing it reassuringly as a tear finally escapes down your cheek.

“We...I...”

Looking up at him with your misty gaze as you feel your heart rate speed up, your hand begins to tremble as tears begin to rumble down your cheeks.

“Spencer...” you breathe.

“I’m not alive over there, am I?” he asks, his eyes searching for grimacing face as your nose begins to crinkle.

Shaking your head lightly, you swallow hard as you sink you tear-stained gaze back into your lap.

“We buried you 4 years ago.”

As the table falls silent, the girls’ eyes watering as the men throw a hesitant glance over at Spencer, who was eyeing you carefully, you suddenly stand up from your seat, your legs wobbling as you stumble out from behind the table.

“I...uh...need to go get some fresh air.”

Rushing over to your coat, you grab it in your salty wet hands as you throw Rossi’s front door open, tripping out on to the porch as you go falling to the ground.

Putting your hand over your mouth as you perch back on your feet, you put your face in your hands as you begin to sob, the emotion from the past two days finally bubbling to the top.

And then suddenly, out of nowhere, you feel a pair of strong hands place themselves on your knees.

Slowly dropping your hands from your face, your cheeks bathe in your tears as your eyes rise slowly to meet his.

“What can I do?” Spencer pleads.

Shaking your head as you look at him, you sniffle as you unravel your napkin from your hand, bringing it to your face as you wipe at your nose.

“You are _so_ different...” you trail off.

“And you’re alive,” you whisper, your eyes looking up at his face as you let out a ragged breath.

“That’s why you have a hard time being around me...” he trails off.

_Well..._

Nodding quickly, he sees the flicker of secrecy roll across your face before you can attempt to backtrack out of the situation.

“Hey, you guys need anything?” Garcia asks, barely above a whisper as she steps out and crouches down beside you, her kind hand rubbing your back as you try to put yourself back together.

“No, no...I think we’re alright,” Spencer says, smiling weakly as she nods and gets up.

“Y/N, we can take you home if you want to go,” Garcia offers as her hand lightly lands on your shoulder.

“Don’t make me go home,” you plead, renewed sobs rising back to the surface.

“Please don’t make me go back there,” you whisper down to the ground.

As Garcia’s eyes widen, her gaze watering of its own volition as she flickers her worried gaze up to Spencer, she dips back down quickly and kisses the top of your head before stepping back inside and slowly closing the door.

They were so different.

So _kind._

But Spencer...

Spencer was completely different.

“You know, you didn’t have any doctorates,” you say through your stuffy nose, twirling the napkin around your fingers again as he helps you to your feet.

“Oh, really?” he says, guiding you to a rocking chair on Rossi’s porch as he slowly lowers you in to it.

“Yeah. I mean you were smart. So very smart...but you never pursued anything beyond a Master’s in Psychology.”

As Spencer sits beside you in the another chair, his eyes locked onto you as you stare off into the sky, your eyes search the twinkling lights as you point to the brightest one.

“See that star?” you ask.

As Spencer follows your gaze, he smiles as he nods.

“Once we-”

Pausing as your mind begins to slip back into the past, you feel his hand on your shoulder as he caresses your upper arm with his thumb.

“You don’t have to talk about it now,” he says, “Not if you’re not ready.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, your hand slowly making its way back to your lap as your mind continues to swirl, your gaze locked on that bright and shining star.

Yours and his star.

The bright and shining star that he had named just for you...

Slowly letting your gaze fall back on Spencer, his lanky frame nestled into the rocking chair as his feet slowly move the chair back and forth, you couldn’t help but rake your eyes across his figure.

He was different.

So, _so_ different.

But something has to be the same. That was the principle: in an alternate reality, no matter how different something is, there is always a point, or event...or action...that grounds that object or person into it’s reality. Something that carries over, like Morgan’s grin or Garcia’s technological brain.

And your stomach began to churn.

“Do you have an issue with Dilaudid?”

As Spencer’s gaze quickly whips to yours, your brow furrows as his eyes quickly lock back onto yours.

His stern, shocked, wondering eyes.

Staring at him with a serious expression, your eyes never wavering as you feel the bile rising in your esophagus, you clear your throat and ask again.

“Do you...have an _issue_...with Dilaudid? Here?”

Watching him as his hand slowly slips in to his pocket, you watch as his fingers work its way around something as his face slowly lets go of the surprise and fades slowly into sadness.

“Of all the things to stay the same,” you mutter, shaking your head as you push yourself to your feet.

“Y/N,” he says, catching your arm as you turn back towards him.

“What?” you ask flatly.

“I did. I did have a problem with Dilaudid. But I’ve been sober for over 6 years now,” he declares, pulling his sobriety coin from his pocket.

Watching as he slowly presses the coin in to the palm of your hand, your eyes brew fresh tears as he slowly wrap your fingers around it as you mindlessly begin to bring it to your chest.

Uncurling your fingers as you take in the beautiful sight of his sobriety coin, you hold it up against the bare skin of your sternum, your head lowering as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“We worked...so hard...” you choke out, “We couldn’t even...”

As your chest tries to hold back your sobs, a light whimper escapes from between your lips as Spencer’s eyes start to water.

Watching him fly from his seat, he wraps his arms around you, his right hand landing in your hair as he strokes it gently, and his left arm wrapping itself tightly around your waist, pulling you close to his chest as you bury your face into his shirt.

Even his hug was different.

_Of all the things to be the same..._

Sobbing into his chest as he holds you close, his body lightly rocking yours side to side as he lowly shushes in your ear, you finally regain composure as your tear ducts tire out from producing tears.

You feel Spencer slowly extend his arms as your body parts from his, and as you take a deep breath, followed by a very audible and tired sigh, you hold his sobriety coin out for him as he takes it and drops it back in his pocket.

“Look at me,” he urges.

Shaking your head, you feel his finger hook under your chin as he lightly applies pressure, your gaze drifting up to his.

“How did you know to ask if I had a problem?” he inquires, his stern eyes searching yours as the memories once again come flooding to the front

And as you raise your thumb to wipe away a tear that had begun its descent down the curve of his cheek, you swallow hard as the words catch in your throat, your voice getting lost in a sea of emotion and despair.

“Because that’s how I lost you,” you whisper.


	5. Late At Night

As Spencer’s tears spill over onto his cheeks, you hear the door open as someone steps outside.

Slowly turning your head around, your jaw locked into position, your eyes slowly connect with Emily’s.

Sniffling as you stand up from your seat, Spencer jumping up behind you as he reaches for your hand, you wrench away from his grip as the memories of his lifeless body come flooding back to your memory.

“Take me home,” you say, barely above a whisper as Emily nods her head.

“Y/N...” Spencer says.

“No!” you roar, causing everyone in the house to turn and look out the window.

“No...” you whisper, thick tears pooling in your eyes as you look around wildly.

“Of _all_ the things...” you choke out, shaking your head.

“You ready?” Emily asks, handing you your coat as she throws hers over her shoulders.

Shooting Spencer one more look, watching as another tear pours down his cheek, you feel the men from inside step onto the porch as Emily walks you to her car, hearing the crack on Spencer’s back as Morgan asks him what had happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in Emily’s car next to your “apartment,” you stare out the window, your forehead against the glass, as Emily finally breaks the silence.

“It’s not just because he’s dead, is it?” she asks.

Sighing heavily as your breathing makes you cough, you unlock your door as you pull the handle, pushing it with your shoulder as Emily grabs your hand.

“I don’t know what your relationship with him was at home, but here he’s a good man.”

As your eyes slowly pan over to her, the hatred in your eyes betraying your stoic face, Emily furrows her brow as you slowly open your lips to speak.

“I have never, and never _will_ , doubt whether or not he is a _good man_ ,” you enunciate.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t-”

Pursing your lips together as Emily cuts off her sentence, the two of you stare at each other as your hardened gaze slowly gives way as your mind travels back through your memories.

Your memories of dates, and kisses, and late night conversations.

All of the wine that was had.

The love that was made.

The day you told Spencer you were pregnant...

“Y/N?” Emily asks, squeezing your hand as you snap back to this reality.

“Huh...?” you ask, your eyes fluttering as a tear taints your cheek.

Shaking her head as she furrows her brow, she sighs deeply as she asks, “Where did you go?”

“I’m exhausted,” you say through a fake chuckle, running your hand through your hair as Emily sags her shoulders in defeat.

“Well, get some rest, and we’ll see you Monday morning.”

Opening the door as you step a foot out onto the pavement, you turn your head back towards Emily.

“Oh, a-...and thanks. You know, for the ride,” you stammer.

“Anytime,” she replies, flashing you a weak smile as you shut the door behind you, your weary legs slowly making their way up the steps to your “home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sleep wasn’t easy to come by. If you weren’t lurching yourself awake at every foreign sound outside, you were wracked with emotion as your nightmares plagued your sleep.

You could still smell the scent of rotten flesh.

Shuddering as you swing your legs over the bed, you bury your face in your hands as you groan, your fingers running through the knots in your hair as you slowly take a peek at your clock.

_2:46 am._

Sighing as you lug yourself out of bed, you shuffle into the main living area, cursing as you jam your toe against the couch, doubling over in pain as a string of muffled curses falls from your lips.

Just what you needed.

A broken toe before your first day of work.

Hobbling over to your fridge, you throw it open and grab the pitcher of lemonade and sit it on the counter as you throw the cabinet door open to search for a cup, knocking yourself in the forehead as you cry out in pain.

“Holy fucking _nutsack_!”

Whimpering and slamming your fist onto the kitchen counter, you feel the warm fluid slowly drip down your nose as your glance falls over to your cell phone.

You feel a deep pull in the pit of your chest...a pull that you haven’t felt since you watched them lower his casket in to the ground.

That deep-seeded, flourishing, desperate need to talk to him.

But you couldn’t. Talking would open up _that_ conversation.

And you didn’t want to taint him with that conversation.

But as your mind shouted every silent reason at your heart to stop moving, you found yourself slowly picking up your phone as you flip it open, the blood from your forehead dripping from the tip of your nose on to the screen of your cell phone as you open up your recent calls and find his number at the top.

Feeling your hands begin to quiver as you hit the little green button, you hear the phone begin to ring once...twice...and yet a third time before...

“Hotch?” a groggy voice says.

“Uh...no, no I’m sorry. W-were you expecting a call?” you ask meekly, immediately regretting your decision as you pull the phone away from your ear to glance at the screen.

“Y/N...?” Spencer asks, his voice breathless as he sits straight up in bed.

“I-I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have called...” you trail off.

“No no no. It’s alright,” he scurries, “You can, um...call anytime.”

After a brief moment of silence as you feel your forehead gush once again, you mutter obscenities under your breath as you wince at the sharp pain.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Spencer asks.

“Uh...yeah. It’s just...you know...really late, a-a-and I’m bleeding...and I think I’ve broken my toe, a-and I just had this...this longing deep in the pit of my-”

“Bleeding?” you hear him cut in.

“I mean it’s not bad...” you trail off.

“Are you at home?” he asks.

_Home..._

“I-I-I mean, not _your_ home...but the home you have here, is that where you are?” he backtracks.

Feeling tears crest your eyes, you nod quickly as you swallow hard.

“Yes. Yes, that’s where I am,” you choke out, your breath ragged as you draw air in deep into the pit of your lungs.

“I’m walking out the door now,” he says, just before the phone line goes dead.


	6. Arrival

Thirty minutes later you hear a knock at your door.

Coming back slowly from your zoned-out state, you glance down at your swollen and bruised toe as you stand up, the dried blood on your face cracking at your wound as fresh blood begins to drip down your forehead.

Turning towards the door as tears well in your eyes, you find your hand reaching out for the doorknob as you twist, swinging the door in towards you.

“Oh, my god,” he exclaims as he pushes himself past, his hands grabbing your arms as he wheels you around with me.

“Come here,” he urges, taking your hand as he drags you behind him, sitting you with him on the couch as he begins to dig around in his messenger bag.

Your Spencer would have never _dreamed_ of carrying one of those.

“I’m sorry it took me so long, I stopped by uh...a 24/7 drug store to get some things.”

Nodding slowly as your eyes rake over him, he turns back towards you with alcohol wipes, band-aids, and butterfly closures.

“What happened?” he coaxes as he opens an alcohol pad up.

“I got in to a fight with the apartment,” you say flatly, your face jumping back as the stinging of the alcohol jolts you back to life.

“Sssss,” you hiss as you suck in a bout of air.

“I just have to clean you up,” he says as his brow furrows, worry painted on his face as he begins to slowly wipe away at the dried blood on your face.

As his hand steadies itself under your chin, you close your eyes as he wipes down your nose, allowing the warmth of his touch to radiate through your skin.

You’ve missed him so much.

Closing your eyes as you feel the tears begin to emerge once more, your lip trembles as Spencer slowly rubs his thumb on the side of your jawline.

“It’s alright...I’m almost done. Promise,” he coos, his voice soft and soothing as he wipes the last of the blood away from the tip of your nose.

Shivering as the emotion starts to barrel through your chest again, you bring your hand to your heart as you clench onto the fabric of your robe, swallowing hard and deep as the tears pour down your face.

“You...have no idea...” you choke out.

“Oh god...” you shudder as your breathing becomes ragged, your hand coming down hard on his leg, grasping at his muscles through his pajama pants as he brings his hand down quickly on yours.

“Talk to me,” he whispers as he continues wiping at the fresh blood slowly pooling at the gash in your head.

“I can’t,” you whisper, your chest physically constricting under the weight of your sadness.

“You _can_ ,” he urges, squeezing your hand reassuringly as he dips down for the butterfly closures.

Feeling him push the sides of your gashed skin together, he dabs at it one more time before attaching two closures to your head, breathing a sigh of relief as the bleeding finally stops.

“Now, for that toe,” he says, nodding down to your foot as the bruising slowly ricochets up your cold foot.

Nodding slowly as you swallow again, he gets off the couch and onto his knees, slowly moving your toe back and forth as you wince and grit your teeth.

“Well, I’m not a medical doctor, but if we took you to one they would just tape your toe to the one beside it and let it heal...” he trails off as he digs in his bag yet again.

Cocking your head as you watch him, his warm hand curling around your delicate foot, he pulls out some surgical tape as he places it at his side.

Slowly looking up at you, his eyes hesitant as he presses his fingers on to either side of your broken toe, he leans forward and kisses your leg lightly.

Feeling your eyes widen as you watch him closely, he puts his forehead on your knee as his gaze turns downward towards your foot.

“On the count of three,” he whispers.

Throwing your arms out to the side as you clamp down onto the cushions, you take in a deep breath as you hear him slowly count down before a disgusting crack sounds from thrusting your toe back into place.

Wailing out into the night as you fling your head back, tears pouring down your face as you cringe and sob, you feel Spencer tape your two toes together as he covers both of his hands around your cold foot, his gaze slowly creeping back up as you sigh heavily.

“Thank you,” you croak out, your body physically exhausted as he gets off of his knees and sits beside you on the couch.

Feeling his eyes search your body, his hands not knowing whether to reach out and touch you or stay at his sides, he licks his lips as he says, “I just...I have something to say, and then I’ll leave the subject alone.”

Nodding lightly as you slowly open your eyes, you lob your head over to him as your tired gaze locks onto his intent one.

“You don’t have to talk about it now...but _eventually_ , you should. To someone. I can’t imagine how it must hurt, but something in your body language tells me there’s more to your pain than just my death.”

Blinking as a tear threatens to escape down your face, Spencer reaches his hand out and wipes it away as you instinctively nuzzle into his touch.

“See? Like that, right there,” he says, barely above a whisper as his eyes gaze longingly all around your face.

“I just...I can’t talk about it right now. It...it hurts so much. And I just...didn’t realize how much I hadn’t dealt with it until...”

“...you saw me,” he finishes.

Nodding slowly as you swallow back another sob, you bring your hands to your face as you groan.

“Holy _hell_ , what a weekend,” you mutter.

“Yeah, something like that,” he halfheartedly chuckles.

“I’m so sorry for waking you up in the dead of night,” you mutter, turning your head towards him again as he offers you a warm smile.

“I’m glad you did,” he responds.

And as the fingers on your right hand meander to your left, slowly encircling your ring finger as you twist and fiddle with the nonexistent jewelry, Spencer’s eyes flicker down towards the motion as his breath hitches in his throat, his mind racing as he finally puts all of the scattered pieces together.


	7. Peak

“Y/L/N?”

Turning your head to crane up at Hotch, he crooks his finger for you to come upstairs.

Bounding up the steps, two-by-two, your heart races as he ushers you into his office, shutting the door behind him as Garcia works to secure the line.

It was about time the President contacted you.

The first month had been fine. Cases were solved, relationships were formed, and you found yourself being the subject of discussion instead of the subject of ridicule.

It was a nice change of pace.

But you were wondering what the progress was on “Operation: Repeat.” After all, you were settling in pretty well, and you needed to know your chances for being uprooted.

You didn’t want to get attached if you weren’t going to stay.  
“Hello?” you say into the receiver.

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N,” the President says, “mind if I put you on speaker?”

“You do whatever you wish, sir,” you chuckle into the phone.

“Alright,” he says, leaning back in his chair in the Oval Office, “I have with me the top scientists and physicists from around the world.”

Feeling your hands shake, your breath hitches in your throat.

“So, what’s the news?”

“This incident is unprecedented, to say the least,” an unfamiliar German accent commented.

“Yes, and with the knowledge that you’ve given to us, we still can’t recreate in our Hadron Collider what you’re able to in yours,” a random Frenchman says.

“Well, maybe the inner workings of our Colliders is different? I don’t really know...but seeing as I’m a researcher and not an engineer, I’ve given you all of the concrete facts that we have as well as theories of my own,” you say, letting out the breath you were holding as an American chimes in.

“Well, we can keep working on it, but given the differences between the realities, you may not be able to reach home until your reality finds a way back and creates it of their own volition.”

“And,” a Middle-Eastern accented woman chimes in, “There is no guarantee that the portal will open in the same spot, or that it will be around the same time. It could open in the middle of the ocean, or it could open in your backyard but be 20 years in their future.”

“The statistical analysis says-”

“I _know_ what the statistics are,” you bite, pinching the bridge of your nose as you take a deep breath.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the President say, “I know that you’re upset...”

Hearing him trail off, your eyes fly open as you realize something.

You realize you aren’t.  
“...but you may want to consider making yourself comfortable for the time being,” he finishes.

“Yes, Mr. President,” you respond, your eyes boring a hole into Hotch’s desk as you plant your palm into it.

“Mr. President?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Yes?”

“Without going into all of the details...what if I told you that I’m getting along much better than I expected here?...you know, in this reality.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he responds.

“And I’m not saying that the scientists of the world stop their experimenting,” you add in, the receiver in your hand shaking against your ear, “And I don’t know what all would be necessary on my part-”

“But you want to know what it would take for you to stay,” he finishes your statement.

“Yes, sir,” you say meekly, sighing deeply as your heart begins to hike its way into your throat.

“Well, for the time being, you don’t have a choice,” he chuckles lightly, “but should slim statistics sway in your favor, and a portal that we didn’t know existed until a month ago opens up back in DC around the same time frame as when you left, rest assured the decision will be yours and yours alone. You’ll be accepted here as you will be accepted there.”

Accepted there?

Huffing lightly in to the phone, a smile crosses your face as you shake your head.

“Just as kind here as you are there,” you mutter into the phone.

“If there’s nothing else, I have some meetings to attend today,” the President says, trying to wind the conversation down.

“Oh, yes sir. I’m sorry to keep you any further,” you say, straightening your back out and smoothing out your shirt.

“Nonsense,” he says, “We’ll be in touch.”

And as you slowly put the phone back down into its holster, you smile as you turn towards the door, Hotch standing outside staring in, his eyes questioning every reaction and his gaze reading every twitch of your body as you reach for his doorknob and fling the door open.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The team had been ecstatic when you had informed them of the news. They were anxious to keep you longer, and you were anxious to find an apartment.

“Hotch has given me a week off to find a place and get settled,” you say, smiling at the girls as they huddle around you, rattling off safe places to look and other places to stay away from.

“I hear we get to claim you a while longer,” Morgan says, coming up and putting his arm around your shoulders as he smiles from ear to ear, “Glad to hear it. Let us know if you need any help moving boxes.”

“Oh, I will,” you say, nudging him with your hip as he leans in and kisses the side of your head.

“Y/N?”

Turning at his voice, you swallow hard as you shuffle from foot to foot, his hesitant grin giving way to a genuine smile.

“I’m glad you’ll be staying for a while longer,” he says as he takes a step towards you.

“Me, too,” you say, fluttering your gaze down to his feet as he takes a deep breath, opening his arms to give you a hug, but second-guessing himself and pushing them back down to his sides.

“I could, um...I could help you find a place, you know...if you’d like,” he offers.

Your mind was whirling. You knew that if you found yourself alone with him again, that the conversation would ensue.

And you knew that you would say things to him...hurtful, emotional things...that were intended for your Spencer.

And you wanted to save him from that.

“Oh, I think I’ve got a handle on it,” you say as his smile falters, “I mean, the girls gave me some good suggestions, and I won’t need a lot of room so I probably won’t be too picky on the layout since I don’t own much anyway,” you ramble.

“Well, I can help you furniture shop,” he offers, his hand outstretched in an attempt to fish for time to spend with you.

“I mean, I could probably do all of it online and have it delivered,” you counter, chuckling nervously as your eyes avoid his face.

You couldn’t handle the pain that was inscribing itself onto his eyes.

“Well, I can help you move, and then we can go grocery shopping to top off the settling in,” he says hastily, stepping forward and grasping your hand within his as you stumble back, your lips drawing a ragged breath as your emotion starts to clench it’s fingers around your throat.

“Spencer...” you choke out as the team stands idly by and watches.

“Spence...” J.J. muses, stepping forward and putting her hand on his shoulder.

“We were married, weren’t we?” he asks, his misty eyes searching yours as your gaze shoots up to him.

You could feel your jaw dragging on the floor.

“W-w-...what?” you ask breathlessly, the team staring wide-eyed at the two of you as your hands begin to tremble.

“Whenever you’re around me, you sometimes twist and fiddle with a nonexistent ring on your left hand,” he says, his voice pleading as he tries to pull you towards him.

Instinctively, you took a step back, pressure raging through your wrist as he tightens his grasp on you.

“Y/N, please,” he pleads, “...please let me help...” he whispers, his eyes begging you as a tear escapes and falls down his cheek.

“Baby...” you choke out, shaking your head vigorously as you turn your body towards the elevators, your eyes reaching desperately for the exit as you feel him step near you, the pressure giving way on your wrist as his body heat starts to radiate onto your back.

Struggling to catch your breath, you feel him put his hands lightly on your shoulders as he squeezes.

“I feel... _drawn_...to you,” he chokes out, a light sob escaping between his lips as you take a step forward and whirl around, your finger thrusting out as your anger begins to churn in your stomach.

“No,” you say, your eyes meeting his as you feel them widen with rage, “No, that is unacceptable!”

“Why?” he asks, his voice defeated as his shoulders slump.

“Because it...it just is!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air as Hotch finally steps in.

“Alright, I think that-”

“No,” Spencer says, turning towards him with an angry stare, “No. There are things she _needs_ to say,” he says, pointing at you as you stare at him wide-eyed as tears trickle down your neck, “Things she never got to say to her Spencer that she _clearly_ needs to say.”

“But that isn’t your call,” Prentiss says, eyeing you carefully as she approaches Spencer, “You aren’t her Spencer.”

“Say them,” he says, whirling to you and taking strides as you quickly back yourself towards the elevators, “Say them to me. Give yourself the closure and relief you so desperately need.”

Searching his eyes as your shallow breathing gives way to audible pants, you press your palms in to the wall as you find the elevator button, jamming it in with your fist as you hear the door ding open.

Stumbling off to the side as you begin to trek your way in to the elevator, you feel Spencer reach out and grab you once more, the elevator doors refusing to close as his arm extends in after your body.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” he whimpers.

“Because...”

Drifting off as you look in to his eyes, the kindness and the beauty slowly eroding away your will to keep your worlds separate, you squeeze your eyes shut as you take a deep breath.

“Because what I have to say is nothing short of disgusting,” you admit.

“Talk to me!” he begs as the elevator door tries to shut once again.

“Reid!” Morgan shouts behind him.

“That’s the issue, my love,” you whisper, slowly placing your hand over his on your wrist as his eyes widen, your hand squeezing his lightly.

“I wouldn’t be talking...”

And as he slowly lets go of your wrist, the elevator doors slowly closing between the two of you, a sob escapes your chest as your eyes plead with him to forgive you.

“...I would be yelling,” you say, just before the doors shut.


	8. Repeat

“What the hell was that!?” Morgan roars, charging towards Spencer as he grasps his arm and whips him around, “You’re drawn to her!?”

“Yes, ok!?”

Throwing his arms in the air as he wrenches from Morgan’s grasp, Spencer catches his breath as the tears threaten to spill over, his back pushed up against the wall as he sighs into his hands.

“Spence,” J.J. coos as she steps forward, “are you sure it’s not the relationship with _her_ Spencer that is altering how you view the situation?”

“I don’t know!” he yells, pushing off of the wall and turning his back to the group, “I have absolutely no idea.”

“Well, neither does she,” J.J. says.

“She’s so scared...” he whimpers, turning back to the group, “...when she looks at me. She’s so scared, and angry, a-a-and... _frustrated_. At least you guys have had a chance to get to know her. She won’t even _talk_ to me!”

“She has to work through this,” Hotch steps forward, putting his hand on Reid’s shoulder, “She loved you and lost you...and now, here you are, alive and well in a reality she isn’t familiar with. She’s working through a serious amount of emotions that we can’t even _begin_ to understand.”

“But I want to _help_ ,” he says through gritted teeth, pleading with the team to see his point of view as he runs both of his hands through his hair.

“Then do what she _asks_ ,” Morgan steps back in, his tone of voice softening at the emotion welling from his best friend.

“But I can’t just--!”

As he sighs in frustration, he feels Rossi place his hand on his other shoulder.

“You can’t what?” he asks.

“I can’t just...stay away,” he states.

“Why not?” J.J. utters.

“Because...because there was one night where she _did_ call. Where she _did_ open up and she _did_ let me in. She called at, like, _2 am_ needing someone to come over and help her! She had gashed her head open and broken her toe and...and she said she felt compelled to call _me_.”

As the team stops and looks at him, he sighs and continues, “And ever since that night...that one night that she decided to drop that barrier...I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. About her.”

As his team members look between each other, their wary glances slowly turning back towards their wounded and struggling colleague, Prentiss steps in from the background and takes his hand, squeezing it within hers as his gaze is slowly pulled upwards.

“Then tonight,” she says, her voice stable and her eyes urgent, “call her. Just...check up. Don’t offer to come over, don’t offer to help. Just check up. And if she’s come to you once, eventually...she’ll do it again.”

“How do you know?” he whimpers, his eyes big and heavy as he searches Emily’s.

“Because she’s done it once before,” she smiles weakly, giving his hand one more squeeze before letting go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Opening your apartment door with a huge smile on your face, you whip out your phone to call the girls to come over and celebrate your finding a place to live.

It didn’t take you long. You had looked at three other places before finding the little studio apartment just above the sweet shop. The owner was willing to give you a great bargain, essentially allowing you to sign a lease that gave you full responsibility and liability to the studio for $200 a month.

You signed without hesitation.

After the owner had given you the keys, you had sped back to the apartment, stopping off at the liquor store for boxes to start packing your things.

You had two weeks before the studio would be to move into, but you wanted to go ahead and get started.

Flipping your phone open as you go to dial Garcia’s number, it starts vibrating in your hand as his name crawls across your screen.

Feeling your breath hitch in your throat, you find yourself picking up the phone call and putting the receiver to your ear.

“He-hello?” you stammer.

“Hey there,” Spencer says.

Closing your eyes as you smile at his voice, you lull over to your couch and sit down, the sentence flying from your lips before your brain can filter them.

“I found a place today.”

“Oh really? So soon?” he asks.

“Yeah. It’s a little studio apartment above a sweets shop. I’m gonna have to step up my exercise routine,” you chuckle as you fold your arms across your chest.

“You look just fine,” Spencer muses.

Continuing your chuckling into the phone, you feel the weight of the pause as you hear Spencer take a deep breath.

“About today...” he trails off.

“Don’t even worry about it,” you say, your eyes widening at your statement.

“No, really...I was out of line and I can’t imagine how much I must have scared you,” he says quickly.

“Baby...it’s just fine,” you muse.

Realizing what you had said, you clear your throat as you try to backtrack.

“I mean, Spencer. Reid. Dr. Reid. Dr. Spencer Reid. Not baby. Definitely not baby.”

“Shit,” you mouth silently before clearing your throat and drawing a ragged breath.

And then suddenly, you shiver.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Spencer asks.

“Your voice is like a crackling fire...” you murmur.

“W-what?” he stammers.

Groaning into the phone as you put your head in your hands, you feel the tears threaten themselves upon the conversation as you swallow hard.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out.

“Sorry for what?” he asks.

“For the way I’ve been treating you. _Ostracizing_ you. For the way that my relationship with _my_ Spencer has somehow tainted what we could develop, could I actually let go.”

“Of what happened...?” Spencer trails off.

“Yeah,” you sigh in to the phone as you lean back into the couch, “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Well...what if-”

As Spencer catches himself, hearing Emily’s words echo in his head, your voice brings him back from the clouds as you ask, “What if what, Spencer?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” he says quickly.

“Please?” you ask lightly.

“Well...I was just going to offer that maybe...maybe I could come over. And we could just...you know, talk. Maybe get some food. Find something on television...”

As the weight of what he is asking descends upon your conscious mind, you find yourself grinning into the phone, completely forgetting about calling the girls as you say, “Yeah, that would be nice. We could celebrate my finding a new place to live.”

And as a shocked grin slaps itself onto Spencer’s face, he chuckles breathlessly as he says, “A-alright. Well, let me get out of my work clothes, a-and I’ll start on over.”

“Alright,” you say, feeling your cheeks flush as your heart speeds up, “See you soon.”

“Yeah. See you soon,” he muses as he hangs up the phone.


	9. You Both

Hearing a knock at your door, you jump up off of the couch, your mind finally rerouting its circuitry as you lunge your hand out to the door, but not twisting the knob.

After a brief pause, your hand trembling as the doorknob rattles, another set of knocks settle upon the door.

“Y/N?” Spencer calls out.

Leaning the side of your head against the door as you sigh, you feel your lips pull themselves taut as you whimper.

The silence that followed was so long that you were sure he had turned around and left.

That is, until his voice melded itself through the fibers of your door.

“I’m jealous of them.”

As you let out the breath you were holding, your hand falling from the doorknob, you let out a light sob as a tear falls its familiar path down your cheek.

“The way Morgan talks about your lunches together...the way the girls get to brag on your girls’ nights...the way that Hotch gets to crook his finger and get you in to his office, even if it _is_ just business...”

Your breathing was catching in your throat as you tried to still the emotion clenching down on your rapidly beating heart.

“They all get to see you smile. They get to relish in your stories and learn about your favorite colors. They get to pick up your tab and laugh with you as you try to figure out how ATMs work. They get to pick you up at late hours when you’re too drunk at the bar and you guys can’t get home...”

“I thought you didn’t drive,” you sniffle lightly, a light chuckle escaping your lips as you wipe your nose with the back of your pajama shirt sleeve.

“I would for you,” he lulls, leaning his head against the door as the wind begins to howl outside.

“I’m having this...this _issue_...” you trail off.

“Yeah?” he says, leaning his body weight onto the door as he sets his grocery bags down.

“Between my head a-...and my h-h-...heart...” you stammer out as your emotions slowly slip out of place.

“I can only imagine...” he trails off.

“A-a-and it’s not that I don’t want to talk with you, o-or get to know you, or spend time with...with you,” you say, drawing a ragged breath.

“But...?” Spencer urges.

“But I fear that...that if we do spend time together, and I do get to know you...that I will...”

“...fall in love again?” he croaks.

“No,” you say breathlessly, shaking your head as the sobs wrack your chest.

“Ssshhh...” he coos, pressing his hand against the door, silently willing you to open it so he can hold you.

“I’m scared that I’ll allow myself to continue to love you,” you utter breathlessly, “...because I never stopped.”

As Spencer closes his eyes, his bottom lip trembling as a tear escapes down his cheek, he puts his hand on the doorknob as he jiggles it lightly.

Looking down at the moving doorknob, your gaze slowly moves to the lock as you take a deep breath.

Raising your hand to flip the lock, you watch as the doorknob turns, the door swinging open as you try to stand tall, your eyes red and tired as you gaze upon a haggard, tear-stricken Spencer as your eyes slowly gaze down to the plastic bags sitting at his feet.

Sniffling as your eyes slowly pan back up to him, your fear and anxiety slowly giving way to confusion, he breaks eye contact as he reaches down and grabs the bags as the tips of his fingers turn white under the pressure.

“I uh...I figured I’d cook us something,” he says between sniffles, a light smile crossing his face as he snickers to himself.

“Come on in,” you croak, grabbing a few bags from him and ushering him into the kitchen.

Unpacking the groceries in silence, the two of you side-stepping each other in rhythm as you set things out on the counter and put things away in the fridge, you find yourself quickly slipping into the way things were...the way things used to be.

“So...how was your day?”

You were so glad that Spencer got the joke, because hearing him laugh was such a comfort.

“What? No ‘baby’ thrown in there for good measure?” he jousts back, turning his head back and wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure a few of them’ll slip out as the days chug on,” you say, smiling lightly as you turn around, your eyes locking onto his as you find him staring at you.

“Thank you,” he says, his gaze set in stone as you search his eyes.

“Yo-...you’re uh...you’re welcome,” you say, nodding your head lightly as you feel yourself step towards him.

Feeling your body slowly being drawn to his, a revelation dawned on you.

One that made you panic, and smile, and fear all simultaneously.

What you realized during your through-the-door conversation was that you were treating him the way everyone else treated you back home. You made him feel like an outcast...like he didn’t belong...didn’t fit into your perfect little scenario. You spent so much time dwelling on his death, that you haven’t allowed it to occur to you that here, he’s alive.

Here, he’s anew.

Here...he is _interested_.

As you watch him match your step, his hand taking the empty plastic bag from yours as he places it on the counter, you crane your neck back to gaze up at him as his eyes follow you, his hand reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I never meant to hurt you,” you whisper, shaking your head at him as you swallow hard.

Watching him blink, his eyes working heavily across your face as his brain visibly ticks in front of your eyes, you slowly take his hand in yours as he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Was that for me...? Or for him?” he asks.

And as you draw in a deep breath, your eyes raking over him as you close them and take another step forward, you commit his scent to memory as you open your yes and utter, “It was for you both.”


	10. The Truth

After Spencer shooed you out of the kitchen and into the living area with a glass of wine, you sank down into the couch as you rifled through the bag of DVD’s he had brought, laying a couple off to the side as you kept asking his opinion.

“Well, what about the documentary on aliens?” you ask, smirking at him as you hold it up.

“Whatever you want,” he muses, stirring a pot as the smells start to waft from the kitchen to the living area.

“Well...there’s a Tom Hanks movie in here,” you say, holding it up for him to see.

“Seriously,” he says as he chuckles, “whatever you want to watch.”

“But I don’t want the resident genius to get bored!” you exclaim, throwing the DVD’s back into the bag as you get up to plop a DVD into the player.

“Not possible,” he mutters as you furrow your brow.

Blaming your hearing on your multiple glasses of wine, you settle yourself back down onto the couch as the wonderful smells from the kitchen overtake your senses, causing your mouth to begin watering.

“Alright! Almost done,” he says as you hear him clink around in the kitchen, probably looking for plates and silverware.

“Need any help?” you ask, your face flushing lightly as the alcohol starts to loosen you up a bit.

“Not at all,” he says, turning around with two bowls in his hands, smiling as he carries it over to the couch.

“Looks like someone needs a refill,” he says as he sets the bowls down on the table, grabbing your wine glass before you can protest.

“You need to catch up, you know!” you shout back to him.

You loved hearing him laugh.

“I promise, I will,” he says as he comes back with two glasses, handing you yours as he sits the rest of the wine down on the coffee table in front of the television.

“So...what are we watching?” he asks as he picks up the remote and presses play.

“Aliens,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows as Spencer throws his head back and laughs.

“I wonder if I’m technically considered one,” you muse, bringing the bowl to your lap as your mouth begins to salivate.

“You’d be the prettiest one,” Spencer says as your eyes widen, his cheeks flushing as his expression drops.

“Want me to pretend I didn’t hear that?” you ask, a smirk playing on your lips.

“Yes, please,” he says, sighing with relief at your reaction as the two of you take your first bite, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you moan while you chew.

“Oh my god. Spencer. This is incredible,” you groan, “Where did you learn to cook like this!?”

“I take it your Spencer didn’t cook?” he chuckles.

“He didn’t even microwave!” you exclaim, a laugh emanating from your chest as you take a second, and much bigger, bite.

“Well, Rossi’s taught me a few things over the years. You know...so I don’t completely rely on take-out.”

“But take-out is so good,” you emphasize, “it’s practically a food group for me.”

“What’s your favorite kind?” he asks.

“Mmm,” you say, chewing quickly before swallowing hard, completely ignoring the droning documentary in the background, “There’s this hibachi place on the corner of-”

Stopping in your tracks as you furrow your brow, you correct yourself quickly.

“There was...there was this hibachi place...”

Trailing off as you furrow your brow, trying to figure out how to progress your story, Spencer’s face flickers from interest to worry as you find yourself drifting off into your own little world.

“There was this hibachi place we always went to...” you start off.

“Anyway, it was fabulous,” you continue, your hand waving in the air, “and we always grabbed food from there after a particularly hard case. And the white sauce...oh that beautiful white sauce...”

Coming slowly back to reality as you stare at the food in front of you, you shake your head lightly as you take another bite.

“I’m sorry. I never know what tense to put words in whenever I’m talking,” you snicker lightly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer says, his hand slowly drifting to your knee, “just say whatever feels right. I’ll understand what you’re saying.”

As your eyes drift to his hand on your knee, you praise yourself silently for choosing a pair of pajama bottoms versus a pair of shorts.

You wouldn’t want him seeing your skin pucker up at his touch.

“Anyway,” you say, sucking in a bout of air as you raise your wine glass to your lips, “this food is really good,” you compliment as your gaze pans back to him, his eyes staring intently at you as you smile weakly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, his eyes searching your face as you find yourself blushing.

Two bowls of food and two bottles of wine in, Spencer and you were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, the documentary coming to an end as the two of you shake your heads.

“So much insanity,” you say, throwing your head back and laughing as Spencer laughs with you.

“I can’t believe there are people so passionate about Jesus being an alien,” Spencer says through his laughter.

“Oh! Oh! What about the part about genetically modified food being a ‘sophisticated art’ brought by extraterrestrials!”

As the two of you roar on the couch, you bring your knees up to your chest as you wrap your arms around your stomach, your body leaning to the left so much that your body goes plummeting your into Spencer’s lap as tears from your laughter drip down your cheeks.

“Oh my god!” you exclaim breathlessly, taking your finger and wiping the tears from your eyes as you turn around, your face looking up as his as he stares back down at you, “Oh my god, that was incredible.”

Taking deep breaths to steady your breathing, you slowly uncurl your legs from your chest as you slowly stretch them out across the couch as his hand dips down to cradle your head.

As the two of you stare at each other, his fingers working themselves slowly in your hair as his other hand slowly rests on your thigh, you smile lightly as his eyes become sincere, his lips twitching upwards as he gazes heavily down onto your face.

You knew that look.

And it still made your breath catch.

Feeling Spencer’s arm flinch, you find your head drifting upwards as Spencer’s mind worked right in front of your eyes, the little gears of his head ticking away, debating actions and processing potential reactions...weighing consequence after consequence.

It shouldn’t be this much work.

As your hand drifts to his face, your head suspended in mid-air by his large, strong hand, your fingers raise to brush lightly at the hair dangling in his eyes as you smile lightly.

And then, all of a sudden, you find his face slowly bending down towards yours, his eyes closing as yours flutter in the same direction.

But when you could feel his breath on your lips, he stopped.

Holding your position, your arm slowly linking around his neck as you telepathically beg him to close the distance, to let you feel something which you haven’t felt for years, you feel him shift ever so lightly as his warm, soft lips come down lightly on your cheek.

Fluttering your eyes open as you press your face into his lips, he breaks away and pulls back, his eyes a mixture of sorrow and disappointment.

“Thank you for tonight,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper as you search his eyes.

“Thank you for dinner,” you muse lowly, trying not to let your voice give way as he slowly helps you lean back up.

Closing your eyes as you take a deep breath, you reach for your bowl, propping it on top of his as you go to grab the glasses.

“Oh no, I can get that,” he says, putting his hand on your wrist as you shake your head.

“You cooked, I clean,” you say, your eyes willing him to let go as he nods, giving you a weak grin.

Slinking off to the kitchen as your heart continues to sink to your toes, you take a ragged breath, trying to keep your tears at bay as you slowly lower the dishes into the sink.

Turning towards Spencer as you watch him pick up his messenger bag, you furrow your brow as you dash towards him.

“Spencer, are you alright to drive home?” you ask, worry peppering your voice.

“I took the subway,” he says, his eyes gazing down at his feet.

“Well, could you at least let me know when you get home alright?” you ask

“Of course,” he says, raising his gaze to yours as he holds your eyes.

Slowly reaching for the door as you open it for him, you watch him step out onto the porch as you reach your hand out, grasping his forearm as he stops in his tracks.

“You’re always welcome here, Spencer,” you muse, watching as his eyes mist over lightly.

“Thank you,” he chokes out.

Watching him walk down the stairs as a tear drips down your cheek, you sigh as you close the door, pressing your back up against it as you lightly pound the back of your head into it.

It wasn’t that you felt you had made a mistake.

It wasn’t that you had actually enjoyed your evening with him.

It wasn’t even the fact that you had felt a strong, overwhelming need to kiss him.

It was that, in that moment, when his hand was supporting your head and your eyes were trained on him, you felt the last stone-clad walls of your soul clatter to the ground in to a puff of dust.

It was that, in that moment, when the two of you side-stepped each other in the kitchen as if he had never left, you had realized that he was, indeed, actually gone.

It was in that moment when he brought you the dinner he had cooked, that you realized the one thing that you didn’t think was possible.

You were in love with Spencer.

 _This_ Spencer.

This _doctor_ Spencer.

And as you grab your phone off of the table and slowly meander to your room, you plop down onto your bed as you shimmy under your covers, bringing them up to your face and whimpering into your pillow as you cry yourself to sleep, sobbing so hard and so violently that you completely miss Spencer’s text message.


	11. Her Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning for mentions of childhood abuse.

Walking out of Hotch’s office after hanging up with the President, you sigh heavily as you pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

“No luck?” he asks.

“The technology here is just so…primitive…to what we have there, apparently,” you sigh, shrugging as you open your eyes, “and I know that team is better off without me, so the President has offered permanent…”asylum”…of sorts.”

“Well, then what I’m about to ask won’t come as a shock,” Hotch replies.

Looking up at your boss as he leans against the railing, he crosses his arms as you cock your hip out.

“I want to offer you a permanent position with the team. This team.”

Blinking as your breath hitches, your eyes flicker ever so lightly behind him, catching a quick glance of Spencer before returning your gaze to your boss.

“But I know things have been tense with you and Spencer for a couple of weeks now…” he trails off, his voice lowering with each word.

“Nothing we can’t work through, sir,” you say, nodding your head in punctuation.

“The position is yours if you want it, under one condition,” Hotch says.

“Sir?” you ask.

“Resolve things with Reid,” he states as he walks by you, the breeze from his body leaving you stunned as you hear him shut his office door behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Spencer?” you ask lightly, tapping him on his shoulder.

As he slowly turns around mid-sentence, J.J.’s curious glance falls on you as she reads your body language, making haste as she backtracks around the corner, leaving the two of you to talk in peace.

“Could we talk?” you ask sheepishly.

“After I’m done talking wi-”

Turning around to see J.J. gone, he furrows his brow as he scans the room, desperate to find a way out as you sigh audibly in front of him.

“Bab-…”

Catching yourself as you take in a sharp breath of air, you close your eyes as your hands begin to tremble.

“Spencer…please, we really need to talk,” you urge.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, his voice cracking as she plasters a fake smile on his face, “everything’s fine. We’re fine. Work’s fine.”

“That’s a lot of ‘fine’’s for someone not actually fine,” you say, crossing your arms as you cock your hip out.

“Look, it’s been a long day, and I’m ready to go home, and I just-”

Catching his arm as he tries to back away from you, you feel your emotional resolve slowly melting from the sleepless nights as his eyes grow wide, looking at you from behind his tired eyes.

“We have to clear the air between us,” you say, “it’s not productive for work. Everyone senses it.”

“No, they don’t,” he snickers, “Y/N, there’s nothing wrong,” he urges, his tone of voice growing frustrated as your eyes grow wild.

“Fine, you don’t want to do it in private? We’ll hash it out here,” you state, raising your voice as Spencer stops in his tracks.

“Y/N, don’t do this…” Spencer begs, slowly turning around as his eyes plead with you to leave it be.

“You are such a hypocrite,” you scoff, shaking your head as your eyes rake heavily over Spencer’s crooked body.

“What?” he asks breathlessly.

“All of this time, you have _whined_ and screamed and thrown a tantrum…like a _four_ year old!…because I wouldn’t talk to you. Because I wouldn’t let you in. And now… _now_ when it affects my job and the whole of the _new life_ that I am _apparently_ supposed to start because there is absolutely _zero_ percent chance that I am getting back to the reality that I am at least _familiar_ with, you _completely_ close yourself off and act like a scared little child because of a failed **_kiss_**!”

As the entire team stops what they are doing and whips their attention over to the two of you, you watch as Spencer’s face contorts with confusion as he drops his messenger bag down his shoulder and off to the side.

“But I thought you didn’t want to go home...?” he asks, his voice gaining traction once again.

“Of _course_ I don’t!,” you roar as you throw your hands in the air, “...but the idea of being stuck in a place where I _know_ nothing, _understand_ nothing, and partake in unfamiliar traditions is absolutely **draining**! I have to keep it together because all of _YOU_ are flabbergasted.”

Pointing around the room as you begin to pant, you feel your blood beginning to boil as you clench your fists at your side.

“Well, what about _me_!? The one who’s been _dropped_ into this crazy reality in the _first_ place!? Did anyone ever stop to think that maybe _I’m_ not coping well!?”

Staring down Spencer with tears in your eyes, you watch as a flash of understanding starts to erode the confusion off of his face.

“Hotch has offered me a permanent position here, under the condition that I resolve things with you,” you say, your voice cracking as a tear spills over your cheek, “so all I want to know is why.”

“Why what?” Spencer breathes, his legs taking a step towards you as your eyes latch onto his.

“Why did you second guess that kiss?” you breathe, your voice shaking as more tears begin to streak red trails down your face, plodding onto the floor beneath you as Spencer stops just shy of your shadow.

“Because I didn’t know if you would be kissing me…or him,” he admits, the guilt automatically registering on his face with every world that falls from his lips.

Scoffing as you shake your head, your left hand migrates to your hip as your right hand comes up and wipes at your face before raking through your hair as you hang your head low, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath.

“I still haven’t been fair to you…” you trail off, kicking your right foot at a nonexistent rock on the ground.

“Why do you think that?” Spencer asks, taking another step towards you.

“Because everyone else still knows the extent of my relationship with them ‘back home’,” you say as you air-quote the phrase.

“I know enough…” he trails off.

“…but not everything,” you say, raising your eyes to his as you shake your head, your jaw tensing as your lip quivers.

“Not everything,” you whisper, sniffling hard as you bring your right arm up to your face and wipe your nose.

“And I think…that maybe, if you knew…you know, the whole story, that it would help you realize…”

Feeling your chest heave with sobs, you suck in a deep breath, coughing from the pressure of the knot in your throat.

“Y/N?” Spencer says, leaping towards you and rubbing your back with his hand.

“I think it would help you understand…” you say, barely above a whisper, “…why you ignoring this topic has hurt so deeply,” you finish.

“Then we can talk tonight,” he says calmly, his warm hand cascading down your spine in an attempt to calm your shaking body.

“No!” you roar, knocking his hand back as Spencer’s eyes widen.

“No…” you whisper again as you drag your eyes slowly over to Hotch.

“When I walk out of here, I want to know whether or not I have a life ahead of me,” you choke out.

Watching Hotch nod lightly, he walks over and pulls out the chair, sitting down into it as his eyes fix themselves onto you.

“That’s gonna have to wait,” Garcia says, shuffling quickly into the bullpen as everyone turns toward her. 

“What’s up, baby girl?” Morgan asks. 

As her gaze falls upon you, her eyes widening as she takes in your desperate stare, she clenches her jaw shut as she turns her body back towards the elevators. 

"I-it can wait," she says as she tries to shuffle away. 

"Garcia...?" Hotch asks, slowly standing from the chair he just sat in, "what is it?" 

"It can wait until a different time," she says breathlessly, "Not important. Sooo...not important." 

"Garcia," Hotch urges, his voice stern as she stops in her tracks. 

Glancing over at you with a wary stare, she swallows hard as you furrow your brow at her. 

“Well...I heard Hotch offer you the job..." she starts. 

As your eyes flicker to the papers in her hand, you clench your jaw as a deep-seeded sigh escapes between your lips. 

"It's ok," you whisper, urging her to go on.

"... a-a-and you know things can get sticky sometimes," she continues hesitantly, never taking her eyes off of you, "...and I started thinking about how we all exist here, and we also exist there, and she did exist there but is now here…but there doesn’t seem to be a ‘her’ here?”

“What?” Rossi breathes, furrowing his brow in utter confusion. 

“I get what you’re saying,” Hotch states, “Go on.” 

Slowly turning your head towards Spencer as your eyes connect with his chest, your hands begin to shake as your eyes fill with sadness and desperation. 

"I'm so-...so sorry..." you hiccup. 

“Please don’t be mad at me,“ Garcia pleads with you. 

"Never," you say, turning back towards her and smiling weakly as you feel Spencer's hands come down gently on your shoulders. 

"What's going on?" he asks, his voice wavering as tears crest the apples of his cheeks. 

"I’ve been researching for a few days," Garcia continues as she hands the stack of papers to you, "trying to work out kinks and find possible duplicate information to avoid to aid in your assimilation over here.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, your shoulders slumping at the information grasped tightly in your hands. 

“I know your mother was abusive,” she starts. 

“Jesus,” Morgan mutters as you bring your fingers up to the bridge of your nose. 

“A-a-and I know you ran away at 15,” Garcia states. 

“Christ,” Rossi cracks as you shake your head, feeling Spencer's stare on you as you close your eyes, your tired and empty eyes becoming shielded by your eyelids as the memories slowly trickle back to the forefront of your mind. 

“Did you ever go back?” she asks. 

Snickering as tears begin to spill down the team's faces, you feel Spencer squeeze your shoulders lightly again, his hands trembling against your skin.

“No. I left with what I could put in my backpack and never looked back,” you state as a proud smile crosses Morgan’s face.

“Well, here? I-i-in this reality," Garcia motions to the papers, "…you did.”

Looking down at the sheets of paper, your eyes peeling across the news article from Washington State as the bile rises in your throat, you bend over at the waist, forcefully vomiting onto the floor of the bullpen as Spencer crouches at your side, holding your hair back as he coos into your ear.

_Teenage Girl Beaten To Death By Mother._

And as the team gathers around you, Hotch moving the papers out of range as Garcia stumbles backwards, continuously repeating how sorry she is, your fingers walk themselves over the piece of paper that had fluttered from Hotch’s grasp as your eyes rake over it, your name of birth and date of death gripping your heart with an everlasting hold of guilt for a girl you never knew, and yet always saw in your dreams.


	12. The Moment of Truth

As you feel yourself being lowered into a chair, Emily's face coming into view as she wipes at your cheek, you grimace at the taste in your mouth just as J.J. hands you a bottle of water.

"Here, drink this," she says as she puts it in your hand, your fingers clasping around it as your eyes trail down to the plastic bottle.

Cracking the bottle open as the team pulls up chairs around you, you guzzle the bottle down as a dribble of water makes its way out of the side of your mouth and down your cheek.

And that's when you felt his fingers graze your skin.

"Mph!" you exclaim, your eyes widening as you part the bottle from your lips, your face finding a worried Spencer as you flash him a defeated smile.

"Thanks," you say.

And all he did was smile.

Just smile...genuinely smile...as if you had given him the future of his choosing on a silver platter, or given birth to his son, or said “I do” at a wedding chapel.

And you knew what you had to do.

Bringing your gaze back to him as you take a deep breath, you reach out and take his hand as you smile back.

"Our wedding day was perfect..." you trail off.

"Y/N...you don't have to do this now," Spencer says, “you’ve had quite enough for one day.”

"I know," you say, nodding lightly as you sigh and rub your thumb across the back of his hand, "but it's time. If I’m going to do this...really do this...I need to quit hiding."

Turning to face the rest of the team, a smile comes across your face as you smile, recalling your beautiful flowing wedding gown and your pink and navy bouquet, reassuring Garcia that it was much more beautiful than it sounded once you saw the crinkle of her nose.

You told them of your honeymoon in London, and how you are sure you visited every coffee shop and sipped every kind of tea known to men in that reality.

You regaled them of how Rossi had walked you down the aisle, and how Garcia had designed and made your dress, and how Spencer had asked Morgan for your hand since you were estranged from your family.

You told them about the beautiful views and the wonderful memories and the incredible sex...

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Rossi says, holding up his hand as Spencer begins to blush, “let’s...skip over those delicacies,” he ushers as he twirls his finger in the air.

“Well, it’s not this Spencer,” you mutter, a sly grin crossing your face as you motion with your head over towards him.

Swallowing hard as you begin to wring your hands, you take a deep breath as you address the team.

“I’m going to turn myself towards Spencer, because the rest of this is directed towards him,” you say, nodding in punctuation as you lift the seat off of the floor and turn your chair towards him.

“I remember the day I told you I was pregnant,” you smile, his eyes lighting up as he locks his eyes onto you.

“I remember how thrilled we were. How it felt when you picked me up and swung me around. How you peppered the crook of my neck with kisses. How you trailed me back to the bedroom with my legs wrapped around you...”

As Rossi goes to put his finger in the air, Hotch wraps his hand around Rossi’s and squeezes, slowly pushing it back into his lap as he shakes his head at him.

“But then there was this case,” you start, your hands trembling as you close your eyes, “and I remember getting that phone call...”

Hearing Spencer suck in a deep bout of air, you open your eyes as you try with all of your might to keep your emotions at bay.

“I remember throwing up before grabbing my keys. I remember screeching out of the driveway and barreling out of the neighborhood. I remember bargaining with every deity that could have ever possibly exist. And then...I remember the crunching sound of metal.”

Remembering the sound of the blasting horn, you close your eyes as your body beings to tremble, your hands clamping down on one another as your fingertips turn white.

As Garcia and J.J.’s eyes begin to water, Morgan takes both of their hands as their eyes lock onto you.

“I remember waking up in the same hospital with boss-man at my side,” you say shakily as you nod towards Hotch, “I remember his look when he told me that I was alright...that you were alright.”

Sighing deeply, you continue, “And I remember the pain in his eyes when the doctor came in and told me I had miscarried.”

Feeling Spencer reach out and grasp your hands within his, you look up to see tears streaming down his face.

“We went home, this...this burden on our shoulders, and we drifted apart. You took off work to grieve. You just...couldn’t function...while I continued to go to work, trying to grasp at some form of routine...of reality. Trying to rid my mind of the horrible insanity that was that day. The team, they-”

Feeling the emotion clench down on your words, you look over at them as you hear the girls sniffle, your saddened eyes raking over Garcia and Hotch before you close your eyes and shake your head.

“Garcia and Hotch pleaded with me to take time off,” you whisper as you squeeze his hands, “to be with you so we could cope together. They begged me not to leave you alone...to go home to my loving husband and be the rock I needed to be for him. And It just made me so damn angry because everyone was so concerned about how this was affecting you, a-a-and it seemed like no one was concerned about how it was affecting me...”

Shaking your head, you grimace, “...but I was selfish,” you add.

“No, you weren’t,” Spencer pleads, squeezing your hands back as he scoots himself to the edge of his chair, leaning his torso closer to you, “you were coping in your own way.”

Shaking your head as your silent sobs begin to wrack your body, you feel Spencer try to pull you close as you push his body away.

“Because I wasn’t there for you to lean on, you were calling Garcia for help,” you say, motioning weakly towards her as the guys slowly look over at her, “a-a-and confiding in her.”

Looking over at her as your lips tremble, you reach out to for her as you breathe, grasping her hand as she takes yours momentarily, her fingers clenching tight before letting go.

“I can remember the first time you blamed me for the miscarriage,” you say to her.

“W-w-...what?” she breathes, her body trembling as Morgan wraps an arm around her, pulling her close.

“I remember exactly,” you say as you close your eyes, “it was on a case about mothers who were being attacked, and their children were being cut from their womb as the mothers were left to die.”

As Garcia audibly sobs, the other women comforting her as Morgan’s misty gaze travels back towards you, Spencer’s body begins to shake as you turn slowly back towards him.

“I had absolutely no idea you had turned back to your Dilaudid,” you ramble, shaking your head as you take his hands again within yours.

“I had no idea you still had access to it, I swear. I had no idea you were using, and I had no idea you were struggling so much, and I am so sorry. Spencer I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you. I swear to God if I could go back and change it I would, please you have to believe me.”

Shaking your head as you bring your arm to your face, your sobs muffled by the crook of your arm, you press yourself into the back of your chair as Spencer tries to move forward and cup your cheek in his hand.

“Y/N...” he trails off.

“I’m not done!” you roar.

“I’m not finished...” you whisper desperately.

“I came home from that case like a whirlwind, barreling through the house to find you. I had...I had promised Hotch that I would take the weekend just for us, and then call in on Monday if you weren’t ready to come back to work. But when I walked in to the room...”

As your entire body trembles in front of your team, you hear Rossi sniffle as Hotch mumbles, “Oh, no.”

“Y-y-you were so cold, a-and...”

As the tears pour down your face, your breath comes in ragged pants as the knot in your throat bursts forth, your sobs drowning out the muffled emotions of your team as you sink down into your chair, your body caving in on itself as you set your elbows on your knees and sob into your hands.

“I couldn’t do anything,” you say hysterically, your head shaking violently as you continue, “I-I-I couldn’t...couldn’t scream. I couldn’t recall how to dial out for emergency. All I could do was...was hold you.”

Feeling Spencer’s arms drape around your convulsing body, he sniffles hard as he buries his face into the crook of your exposed neck, his multitude of tears dripping themselves onto your skin as he rocks you lightly side to side.

“I dragged your cold, lifeless body off of the bed,” you continue as you rear back up, “and I wrapped your arms around me as I sunk into the corner of our bedroom. I knew...I just knew...that if I could warm you up...if I could just warm your body with mine...that you would open your eyes and all would be better. I just knew that you wouldn’t leave me...that you wouldn’t desert me the way it looked like you had.”

Drawing a few ragged breaths as the team looks on and listens, you bring your eyes to meet Spencer’s for the first time since you had started.

“I held you like that for the entire weekend,” you whisper, your body shuddering as you recall the stench of rotting flesh under your nose as you bring your hand to your face, your eyes grimacing once again as the bile threatens to wrench itself from your throat again.

“Oh my god, Y/N...” Spencer trails off, tucking some loose hair behind your ear as he uses his soaking wet hands to wipe at your face.

“I kissed your lifeless neck a-a-and dripped my tears on your lifeless cheek, hoping to breathe back into you what I was responsible for taking away,” you choke out.

“Y/N, that wasn’t-”

“Yes, it was!” you roar as you stand to your feet.

“It was my fault that you turned to Dilaudid in order to cope!” you roar as you thrust your finger down into his face, “I wasn’t there when you needed me most! I wasn’t there when you cried! I wasn’t there when you woke up in the middle of the night! Garcia was!”

Pointing your finger towards the sobbing tech guru, your hand begins to tremble as the anger boils to the surface.

“But it was your fault that you died,” you hiss, clenching your teeth as you thrust your finger into his face as he slowly stands from his sitting position.

“It was your fault that you left me behind,” you growl through clenched teeth.

“It was your fault that I had to continue this...this pathetic excuse for an existence alone. Everyone knew the only reason I was tolerated on the team was because you adored me so much!”

As Spencer’s eyes grow wide, you lose yourself in your story as you close your eyes, bringing your hand to your neck as you swallow hard, wiping the tears from the folds up under your shin.

“J.J. and Morgan came looking for me when I didn’t call on Monday,” you start, the scene re-emerging in your mind as you close your eyes and recall the memory.

“The stench alone could’ve slain a horse,” you strain, your hands still drifting around your neck, almost as if you were trying to free yourself from a nonexistent shackle around your skin.

“I remember the sound of your bones breaking...” you trail off.

“I remember Morgan having to choke back his own vomit as he pried your dead, cold body off of mine as every bone in your body shattered!”

That’s when the tears in Morgan’s eyes began to spill forth, his chest hiccuping as his eyes gaze upon Spencer’s haggard, helpless stance, his eyes fixated on you, ready to pounce the moment he was sure your legs would give way from under you.  
“I remember J.J. physically holding me back as I tried to scramble for you, cursing Morgan as he lugged you out of the bedroom and placed you in a bag...”

“...I remember Hotch telling me that murderers weren’t welcome at the funerals...” you say lowly as Hotch’s jaw trembles.

“I remember the side glances and the whispers. The murmurs and the rumors. I remember Garcia never letting me forget that I was responsible for your death. That I was responsible for your outcome.”

As the entire team weeps on each other’s shoulders, Spencer’s soaked face steps towards you once again as you open your eyes, a light grin cracking through when he realizes you don’t step back as he reaches up for your hands and slowly pulls them away from your neck.

“J.J. was so kind to me...” you trail off, your gaze slowly panning over to her trembling form, “Beautiful, understanding J.J....”

“She’s the one that convinced me to liquidate and sell everything,” you state as you give her a weak smile.

“You told me,” you say as you point to her, “that if I no longer felt at home there, to withdraw my money, liquidate my assets, quit my job, and travel until I felt at home again.”

“Sounds like J.J.,” Morgan chokes out, shooting her a side-glance as she smiles at you through her tears.

“So early on a random Wednesday morning, I left my gun and credentials on Hotch’s desk and left without a trace,” you say, your eyebrows hiking in the air as you turn back towards Spencer.

“And...here I am,” you say, weakly outstretching your arms as they quickly drop down and slap your sides.

After a moment of silence, the team slowly processing...and reeling...from the information you’ve just fed them, you find your hand reaching out for Spencer’s, his fingers lightly entwining with yours.

“Spencer, when I look at you, I see an entire life that was lived. I see our first date and our first kiss. Our first fight and our first time making love. I see the day we bought our house, and the vacations we took together. I see the tears we cried and the cases we won...”

“...but when you look at me,” you continue, dipping your gaze to your hands as you rub your thumb across his, “...you see nothing.”

“...and it slays me inside,” you whisper, closing your eyes as you bring your head back up to his level.

“But do you know what I saw that night? The...the night that you came over? The night with the kiss?” you ask, opening your eyes as you take in Spencer’s face.

“What was that?” he whispers longingly, his hand squeezing yours as you take a step towards him.

“What J.J. told me to find,” you murmur lowly as you watch the realization etch its way across his face.

“And my second-guessing...” he starts.

“...took the only home I now know away,” you finish.

And as the two of you stand there, your hands encapsulated within each other’s as you search Spencer’s face, you hear everyone sniffle hard in the background as Hotch stands to his feet.

“You got the job,” he chokes out as he turns his back, bringing his hand to his face as he quickly wipes away the tears from his eyes.


	13. Boxes and Juice

You can’t remember how you got out of the building.

You don’t remember stepping into the elevator. You can’t recall making it down to the car garage.

You don’t even remember getting into your car.

But when you came to, staring at your apartment door, you found boxes at your feet and Spencer’s hand on your lower back.

Staring at the light tan door, your hands shaking as your dried tear trails crackle under the weight of your sniffles, you slowly look over to see a distraught, tired, and worried Spencer eyeing you down as if you were his young.

“Ready to get packing?” he offers up, his voice throaty and buckling under the weight of the evening.

Slowly looking back at the door, you find your arm weightlessly being lifted as you settle your palm on the cool doorknob, your wrist twisting as you slowly throw the door open, the warm air from the apartment slapping you across the face as you close your eyes, letting the air brush over you as your body begins to tremble again.

Hearing Spencer grunt, he begins to gather the boxes in his hands, trudging and kicking the stray ones through the door as you slowly move behind him, your body crossing the threshold of your temporary home as you mentally prepare yourself to start the journey towards your new home.

New home...

New. _Permanent_. Home.

Feeling yourself lightly crack a smile, your eyes twinkling ever so lightly for the first time that evening, Spencer turns towards you and searches your face, holding his breath so as to not destroy the moment.

Looking around the apartment as your eyes settle on him, you suck in a deep breath through your nose as you start over towards the pile of boxes.

“I’ll start with the kitchen?” you offer.

“Good idea,” he says, his eyes coming alive at the sound of your voice.

As the two of you dance around each other all night, a beautiful waltz of should-be lovers with unsettled minds of could-be nights and want-to-be mornings, the two of you slowly pull things out of cupboards and wrap them gracefully, shoving them into boxes in relative silence as the pitter patter of you and Spencer’s feet sound softly on the laminate flooring.

“How much do you want to get done tonight?” Spencer throws casually over his shoulder.

Shrugging as you tape the last box of kitchen accessories, you lean back up, your hand rushing to your lower back as you clutch it steadily, kneading it with your fingers as the stiffness begins to set in.

Spencer must have caught your movement.

Hearing a rush of feet over the carpet, you find another pair of hands settled on your back, the thumbs of a caring, beautiful man pressing into the dimples on your back as you grip the counter, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let out a deep, throaty sigh.

“Does this feel better?” he asks lowly, his hands kneading deep into the knots you had created by bending over for the past two hours.

Nodding slowly as you sink your forehead onto the counter, you feel his hands begin to work their way up, his hands on either side of your spine, as your skin begins to shiver at his touch.

Feeling your breathing become ragged, you shoot up into an upright position, closing your eyes as you feel Spencer’s hand retract quickly at your movement.

“I suppose you’re feeling better?” he asks, his eyes wild at your quick movements.

Situating your shirt as you feel your knees trembling, you turn towards the fridge as your hand reaches out, swinging it open as you scan the empty corridor that usually houses nourishment.

“Well... _that’s_ disappointing,” you say, dipping down into the fridge and resurfacing with an unopened jug of apple juice.

“I have no wine to offer you,” you say, turning towards Spencer as he looks at you carefully, “but we could always crack open a fresh pint of apple juice.”

Wiggling your eyebrows playfully, a twinge in your lower back causing you to bite down on your lower lip, your eyes search Spencer’s for the first time that evening as he slowly darts his tongue out, licking his lips as a playful smile trots across his face.

“Apple juice sounds perfect...but we sort of packed up all of the cups,” he points out, motioning to the boxes on the floor.

“Well,” you say, twisting the top off and putting the jug to your lips, feeling a drop of apple juice miss its mark and drip its way down your cheek, “I suppose we’ll just have to share.”

Watching Spencer eye your face carefully, he slowly takes a step forward, his thumb reaching out as he lightly brushes the rogue apple juice droplet off of the side of your cheek.

“I’m alright with that,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Staring into his beautiful eyes as your knees begin to grow weak once more, you clear your throat and scoot by him, your body tensing as it remembers the feel of his hand on your face.

“So!” you exclaim nervously, “Are you a Doctor Who fan in this reality?” you ask, plopping down onto the couch as you lean over and grab the remote to the television from coffee table.

“I believe I am,” he says, following quickly behind you and settling down on the couch beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he reaches for the jug of apple juice in between your legs.

“Great. There’s a marathon on tonight. Interested?”

Looking over at him as he raises the juice to his lips, you watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down with every sip he takes.

“Very,” he says, wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve as he hands the juice back to you.

“Good,” you smile at him, clicking the TV on as the theme song begins to pulsate in the apartment.

And as the two of you hunker down for the night, Spencer reaching behind you and pulling a blanket down over the two of you, your find your eyes becoming focused on your peripheral, watching Spencer as his attention becomes engrossed within the television show.


	14. Second Chances?

Over the next six months, a lot had traversed: Spencer had helped you with the rest of your move...as well as helping you pick out new furniture...the girls spent your free weekends with you helping you integrate the rest of the way into this new reality...such as getting a proper driver’s license, obtaining a social security number, and greasing a palm or two to create your birth certificate...and the permanent position you had taken with the BAU helped ground your mind whenever you became unsettled.

The President’s contact with you had started to dwindle. What had become a once a week appointment had quickly diluted into a once a month ordeal, and as month seven of your habitation quickly came and went without so much as a touch-base, the hope of a portal being opened on this end was scorched.

And that gave you the ability to finally cope with the idea of a “new life.”

What would this new life bring? What places would you visit? What would you do for your holidays? What were the holiday traditions here?

Would you try to find love again?

All of these questions whirled about as you all stood around in Rossi’s beautiful home, partaking in a beautiful selection of wine as your new-found family engaged in conversation around you.

But you weren’t paying attention to their topics.

Instead you found yourself slowly drifting to a door in the corner, partially ajar with a sliver of light peeping its way out into a darkened corner.

If the team saw you parting away from them, they didn’t seem to mind.

Slowly pushing the door open, revealing what you assumed was Rossi’s office, you walk in and shut the door behind you, the floor-to-ceiling books cascading around the room as your jaw unhinges in awe, your body slowly spinning with your glass of wine in hand as you attempt to take in the splendor of the high-vaulted ceiling room.

“It’s a beautiful room, isn’t it?”

Jumping at his voice, letting out a yelp as you cling to your glass of wine, you spin around to find a grinning Spencer, his stature tall and his eyes flickering in the dimly lit room.

“My god, you scared me to death!” you yelp breathlessly, playfully slapping him on the arm as he chuckles to himself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his smile brightening your heart as your blood pressure skyrockets.

“Do you have any favorites?” he asks, panning his glass of wine around in the air.

“Not a favorite book, but I have genres that I flock to more than others,” you offer up, turning your gaze back towards the walls of books as Spencer takes a step forward, his body heat radiating onto your back.

“What genres?” he asks.

“I hesitate to say...” you trail off.

“Why?” he asks, his gaze panning down to the side of your face as you bite your bottom lip nervously.

“Because you used to tease me about it,” you whisper.

As silence permeates the room, the rapid beating of your heart pounds in your ears as you feel Spencer’s body heat move from your back to your side, feeling his arm knock lightly up against yours.

“Give me a chance,” he mumbles.

As your breath hitches in your throat, you swallow hard as your almost-empty wine glass trembles in your hand.

“Well, I enjoy high-paced mystery novels...you know, like the Fell series...but I have a tendency to flock to romance novels.”

“Ah, the beautiful Nicholas Sparks’ genre,” Spencer muses.

“Not... _those_ romance novels...” you trail off.

Feeling the heat rise to your face as Spencer’s stance slowly turns towards you, his eyes flicker over your body as he smiles lightly at the embarrassment written all over your face.

“Well it’s how I get my kicks!” you squeal, turning quickly towards him, ready to defend yourself.

As you watch his playful stare fall slowly into one of sadness, you sigh deeply as your shoulders collapse.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer murmurs.

Furrowing your brow, you bring your gaze to his as your eyes grow wild.

“Why?” you ask.

“Because it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s very well documented that women prefer to read their sexual encounters and dream of an emotional connection, whereas men are more prone to watching porn because their sex drives are much higher, leaving room for experimentation and curiosity as well as emotional connection when the need arises...”

“...but that’s not why I’m sorry,” he quickly adds.

“Then why are you sorry?” you ask, your face softening as he reaches his hand out, entwining his long, delicate, lacy fingers within yours.

“Because you should have someone to experience these with, not closing your eyes and imagining them with your nose in a book.”

As your eyes become watery, your gaze searching his as your breathing becomes shallow, you find a lonely tear dripping onto your cheek as you realize, for the first time since this entire ordeal happened, that even though the team had accepted you into their family, and even though you were no longer a pariah, and _even though_ you were able to open your books and easily find companionship within its pages...

...your body still yearned for him.

“Do you believe in second chances?”

Whipping you from your thoughts, his knuckles lightly caressing your face as he catches your falling tears, you watch as he steps closer, your bodies feeding off of each other’s energy as you swallow your emotion deep.

“I do now,” you say, your voice trembling as the events of the past seven months come flooding into the forefront of your mind.

“Do you believe you deserve one?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly.

Whipping your gaze up to his, his eyes searching your face as his lips pull themselves into a thin, taut line, you find your empty hand rising up into the air and settling lightly onto his chest.

“I-...I don’t know,” you answer truthfully.

“Then let me take you to dinner and help you figure it out,” he offers.

As your eyes drop from his gaze, settling on your trembling hand on his chest as he raises his hand to yours, he plucks your hand from his clothing and brings it lightly to his lips, a light whimper escaping from your body as your jaw begins to tremble.

You find your eyes locking onto his once again as he presses his warm, plump lips to your fingertips.

“Like...a date?” you lull, your eyes hopefully searching his face as he lets go of your hand, his palm darting out to cup your face.

“Yes,” he says lowly, his forehead dipping lightly onto yours as a smile caresses the apples of your cheeks.

“Okay,” you muse, nodding your head lightly as you watch Spencer smile, “Okay. Dinner it is.”


	15. A Date

“Here, try this on.”

As a tight red dress comes careening in your general direction, you peel it off of your face as you look at it wildly, your eyes growing in size as you fling it to the ground.

“Since when did I buy that!?” you screech.

“You didn’t,” Emily says, twisting her head back and wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“I’m _not_ wearing that,” you say, pointing at the bunched up piece of fabric on the ground.

“Well, maybe for the festivities later,” Emily shrugs.

“Prentiss!” J.J. yelps, a laugh falling from her lips as slides the clothes in your closet all the way back, revealing a dress that catches her eye.

“What about this one?” she asks.

Turning around as your eyes fall on the royal blue and yellow dress, a light smile crests your cheeks as you slowly walk over, your hand reaching out to finger the soft material as your eyes dance around the yellow-beaded designs.

“I’ll go find some shoes!” Garcia squeals, clapping her hands as she bounds out of your room.

“You’re gonna look beautiful,” Emily says, nudging you with her shoulder as she crosses her arms, “Reid’s not gonna know what hit ‘em.”

“You know, on my first date with _my_ Spencer-”

Catching yourself mid-sentence, you furrow your brow as J.J. reaches out and takes your hand in hers.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she says.

“No,” you say, slightly surprised, “i-it’s...actually not that,” you snicker in shock.

“I just...I mean, technically, I suppose...if this date goes well?...this Spencer is now my Spencer.”

“Trippy,” Emily nods.

“Dick,” you mutter, throwing her a playful side-glance as she smiles brightly at you.

“Let’s get you in this dress. I don’t know about Reid there, but Reid here is very punctual,” J.J. says as she tosses the dress to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waving goodbye to the girls as you shut the door behind you, your feel your knees beginning to tremble as your phone begins to vibrate.

Suspecting the worst, you take a deep breath as you open it up and bring it to your ear.

“Hello?” you ask.

“The girls gone yet?”

Smiling at his voice, you sink yourself down into a chair as you giggle lightly.

“Yeah, yeah...they finally left.,” you answer.

“Alright, I’m comin’ up,” Spencer says.

“Wait...you’re _here_!?” you say, your voice ticking higher than usual.

“For about 5 minutes now. I saw they were still here, so I waited.”

You could feel his smile through the phone.

_Knock knock knock._

“Well you might have to wait,” you say playfully, “someone’s at the door.”

“Well, let them know they’re putting a wrench in one of the best date’s planned thus far in human history.”

Giggling as you hang up the phone, you throw your door open before dropping the phone back into your clutch purse, snapping it shut as your eyes slowly rake up Spencer.

Spencer in a suit.

A _tailored_ suit.

The other Spencer didn’t wear suits.

_Ever._

As you watch his eyes widen, his gaze settling on the intricate beading on the bodice of the dress, you find yourself blushing as you shuffle from foot to foot.

“Too much?” you ask.

“No,” he says breathlessly as his eyes snap back up to yours, “not at all.”

Stepping out onto the porch, you turn around and lock the door behind you, only to feel a light pressure at the dip in your back.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he says as he guides you down the stairs and out towards his car.

“Starving,” you say as a smile creeps across his face, the warmth of his palm stilling the shaking in your knees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the hostess leads you through a restaurant whose name you do not recognize, nor can you pronounce, you watch as everyone fades into the background as the hostess brings a key from her hip, unlocking a door as she ushers the both of you in.

Feeling your jaw drop as your eyes scan over the dim room, a table for two with a single flickering candle stands out against the darkened maroon and golden walls, a fireplace roaring in the background as the heat slowly peels your coat off of your shoulders, revealing the off-shouldered draping of the dress.

Spencer’s eyes dance enchantingly across your back, your muscles moving with every twist of your head as he stares boundlessly at your shoulders, his fingertips rising as he brushes them lightly along your skin.

Flinching at his touch, you turn around, a shocked look on your face as his cheeks flush.

I”m sorry...I-I, uh...I don’t know what came over me,” he says.

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, gliding over to the chair as Spencer rushes over to pull it out for you.

Watching him sit in front of you, a nervous smile crossing his face as he wrings his hands in his lap, you look around the room once more before your eyes settle on the fire.

“I love a good fire,” you muse lowly.

“A pyro?” Spencer asks, chuckling at his not-so-funny joke as you turn your gaze back towards him, smiling at his attempt to break the tension in the room.

“No, no...nothing like that. They’re just...”

“...romantic?” he tentatively finishes.

“Yeah,” you lull, your eyes dancing along the tips of the flames, “romantic.”

“Good. I was hoping it would be,” he smiles.

The dinner was a blur. You sipped wonderful wine, dined off of a menu with no prices, and was told the only stipulation was no dessert.

“But dessert is the best!” you whined.

But he was insistent.

As the two of you continued the light-hearted conversation, slowly easing into a familiarity that both you and him felt with each other, you see Spencer take a look at his watch before extending his hand out to you.

“Ready for part 2?” he asks, his hand outstretched over the table in an attempt to help you up.

“Oh! A second part, huh?” you ask playfully as your hand slips perfectly into his.

“Trust me, the night is only beginning,” he muses lowly.

And as the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, you stand up and thread your arm within his as you pull him close, your body heats intermingling with one another’s as the hostess nods you farewell before the two of you take off through the restaurant, barreling through the front doors of the establishment and out into the night.


	16. The Stars

Grasping your coffee close to your chest as the two of you walk out of the shop, you sniff your dulce de leche latte as you take a sip, your eyelids fluttering closed as Spencer chuckles lowly at your side.

“Good dessert?” he asks.

“Perfect dessert,” you whisper, your eyes opening as you feel his hand on your back, ushering you back to his car.

Opening your door for you as you crouch down, your butt hitting the seat hard as you close the door beside you, you bring your coffee close to take another long sip as Spencer sets his in the cup holder, sticking his keys into the ignition and starting the car.

“Thank you for a wonderful date,” you muse, lobbing your head over and looking at him.

Watching him smile, his eyes cresting together, he backs the car out of the parking slot as he turns right down the road, still further from your apartment.

“Spencer?” you ask, looking outside at the passing street lamps.

But he said nothing, just staring ahead and sipping his coffee as he drove.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Watching the trees slowly tumble by as Spencer’s car climbs a hill, you finish the rest of your coffee as you set the empty cup lightly into the empty holder.

“Wait here,” he says, clamoring out of his car before you can protest.

Watching him trot off into the darkness, you find your stomach turning in circles as you slowly open your door, stepping out onto the gravel pathway as you squint, trying to look for Spencer amidst the blanketed darkness.

“Spencer?” you call out.

Silence.

Feeling your hands begin to tremble, you find your words catch in your throat just as Spencer’s hand comes into view.

“Come with me,” he says, his hand thrust out in front of you as your eyes slowly follow his arm, trailing up to his twinkling eyes as you find yourself involuntarily smiling, slipping your hand into his once again as he tugs you along the path.

And just as you thought he was taking you on a wild goose chase through the woods, you emerge from the wooded area to take in the beauty of a mirror-still pond, the moon reflecting itself in the water as the stars sing to you from above, a floating boat strung up to a dock.

It was breath-taking.

“Come on!” he urges, taking off running as you stumble behind him, clenching your coat around your shoulders as you find yourself laughing with joy.

Trotting down the rickety dock, Spencer steps into the large boat, helping you to steady yourself as you step in, the boat rocking as you squeal and throw your arms around him to keep yourself from falling and getting wet.

“It’s alright! It’s okay,” he says as he grips you tight, “I won’t let you fall in.”

Opening your eyes as you look at the bottom of the boat, you realize that there’s a futon mattress and a bunch of blankets, as well as two pillows.

“Spencer...what’s all this?” you ask as you look over at him, watching him untie the boat from the dock and pushing the two of you off as you ripple the mirror, the boat slowly drifting into the middle of the lake.

“For this,” he says as he lays down, gathering up the blankets and rearranging the pillows as he lays down, rubbing the empty spot beside him.

“Come on...I don’t bite,” he says as your hesitant glance quickly turns cheeky.

“Such a shame,” you sigh playfully, giggling as you squat down and situate yourself beside him, laying down on the mattress and pillows as you cover yourself up.

Staring up at the stars in silence, you gasp as you see something shoot across the sky.

“Oh, my god!” you exclaim, thrusting your finger out as you point it upwards.

“Another one!” you squeal, clapping your hands as they begin to shoot, one by one, across the sky.

“Do you like it?” you hear Spencer ask.

Turning your head towards him as a huge smile comes across your face, you snake your hand in between your bodies as you find his, interlacing your fingers together as you bring his hand to your lips and kiss his fingers ever so softly.

“I love it,” you muse, your eyes twinkling as another meteor races by.

“It’s the Leonids meteor shower,” he says as he turns his head back towards the sky, “it’s active most of the days of November, but this will be the last time that this kind of activity is visible to us here on Earth until 2099.”

“Your brain is astounding,” you breathe, your eyes still on him as he lobs his head back towards you.

“You’re-...you’re missing it,” he says as his cheeks flush, pointing with his free hand lightly up to the sky.

“No I’m not. I can see the reflection of the passing meteors in your eyes,” you muse as you smile.

“Well, it...it would be better to actually, you know...watch...it...”

But you were too focused on your faces slowly inching closer and closer together. Your breath on his face as Spencer’s eyes flutter closed, you feel him release your hand as he brings his fingers up to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind your ear as his face stops just short of yours, his breath ghosting against you as he whispers the words you’ve been longing to hear against your lips.

“I love you, Y/N.”

And as you close the distance, catching his lips in a flurry of desperation and finality, you snake your leg in between his as his hands splay against your back, your hands flying to his head as your fingertips curl around the beautifully soft hair you always found so comforting in times of need.

Feeling Spencer flip you over, your back to the boat as he climbs on top of you...his head cocking to the side as he deepens the kiss, his tongue finding yours in a dance you were eager to teach...you find your legs parting as he drops down between them, his body fitting the way you had remembered only in your dreams as your arms snake up under his suit jacket, your hands running quickly along his back as Spencer pulls away from your lips, panting for air as your eyes flutter open.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, his eyes intently searching yours as a smile breaks out across your lips.

“And I love you,” you muse back, your fingers dancing along the hair in his eyes as he snickers lightly.

“Don’t you mean ‘you never stopped’?” he asks.

“No,” you say, your face falling stern, “I mean I love you. _You_. _This_ you,” you say, pointing your finger into his chest as his face softens, a look of yearning and happiness wafting over his eyes as they well with tears.

“Are you sure?” he chokes out.

“Look at me and tell me I’m lying,” you say.

And as you catch Spencer’s eyes, his soul pouring from his body to yours as he searches your face, you watch as his lips crash back down against yours, his arms tightening around you as you whimper into his lips, his mouth swallowing your sounds as you hold him close, his racing heartbeat thumping against your exposed sternum.

“I love you,” you whisper, parting from him as you pepper his cheek with kisses, “so very, very much.


	17. Cabin

_Oomph. Ugh. Ah!_

Thumping on the ground as you finally come to, you feel the tightness of something around your arm as you look over, dazed and confused, as the other girl you had heard in the distance screams out for help.

“ _Help_! Somebody **help** us!”

Breathing heavily as you try to scramble to your feet, the unsub dragging you behind a four-wheeler as the skin tears away from your legs, you stretch your arm out, trying desperately to reach the other girl, her body flailing helplessly as her back and legs continue to bang across the wooded forest floor.

“Come... _on_...” you mutter as you grit your teeth, finally catching onto her arm as you steady her, the two of you turning yourself over as you scramble up onto your feet, running behind the ATV as you try to get a bearing on your surroundings.

“Y/L/N!” Morgan shouts, the veins protruding in his neck as his jaw unhinges.

“Y/N!!” Spencer yells, wild and raw fear in his eyes as the two of them run through the forest, the muddled revving of the ATV engine catching their attention in the distance.

“Y/N!!!” Spencer calls out again, his hands tightly gripping his gun.

You could hear him calling from a distance as you try to wrench your arm free, pulling so hard that you hear a snap in your wrist before a searing shot of pain shoots up your arm.

“Aaahhh!” you yell out, tears involuntarily springing to your eyes.

“Shut... **up**!” the unsub roars as he stops the ATV, getting off and coming around to try and subdue you both.

But as he comes around, you kick your foot high in the air, kneeing him in the groin as you work to free your limp hand, talking the other girl through how to get herself free as the two of you scurry to your feet.

“Oh, _no_ you don’t,” the unsub coughs as he grabs for your ankle, but as you come up with your knee, making contact with his nose, you hear an earth-shattering crunch as you grab the girls’ hand, taking back off towards the voices in the woods.

Grabbing her shoulders, you look off into the distance, the flickering smoke of the cabin of death rising above the trees as you turn back to the scared and frantic young girl.

“You run, ok?” you ask, “You run until you see a tall, lanky man with moppy hair and a broad, bald, muscular man with dark skin. They’ll take care of you.”

“Wait!” she yells out as she grabs your bad wrist, making you howl in pain as she lets go quickly.

“Where are you going!?” she asks, her eyes fraught with tears as you look over towards the cabin.

“I can’t leave them...” you choke out.

“...now **run**!!” you roar as you push her towards the oncoming voices, your body stumbling back towards the cabin.

Throwing yourself up the steps, you crash through the front door and barrel for the door to the the basement, racing down the stairs with the keys you had found, the jingling in your hand causing the girls to cower in their cages as you frantically move about the room, revolving from cage to cage as you start unhooking their shackles and watching them scurry up the steps.

After freeing all 7 of the girls, you put your finger to your lips as you listen, still hearing the calls of Spencer’s voice off in the distance.

“Now you listen to me,” you say, grabbing the largest one by her shoulders as the others turn to look at you, “there are voices calling for you guys out there. I want you to run. Run as fast and as hard as you can, and don’t you dare look back until people in FBI vests come into your field of vision, you got that?”

“But what about you?” she pouts, her wide eyes filling with tears as they begin streaming down her face, her hands clamping down onto your forearms.

“I’ll be just behind you,” you pant, hearing footsteps quickly approaching the cabin, “now, go!”

Pushing them all out the front as the back door crashes in with a thud, you listen to them scurry off as the man’s towering stature comes into view, his face bloodied and bruised as he reaches out for your neck.

“You can’t beat me,” he says as he clenches down around your neck, lifting you off of your feet as your good hand tries to help free you from his grasp.

“...and you never will,” he growls, barreling you into the wall as he knocks the wind out of your lungs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Reid! Look!” Morgan yells as he points into the darkness.

Watching as a stampede of girls come racing towards them, Reid radios into his shoulder for an ambulance team as he frantically searches around for you.

“Hey,” he says soothingly as he opens his arms wide for the girls, their tears and sniffles drowning out his question as to where you are.

“Girls, girls, it’s alright. You’re safe,” he reassure them, wiping the tears and snot off of their faces as his eyes keep darting back behind him.

“She’s still at the cabin,” one of them says.

“What?” Spencer breathes as the color drains from his face.

“She came back for us,” the littlest girl says as she steps forward, “she said she would be right behind us.”

As Spencer stands up and looks around, the ambulance pulling up behind him, he steps through the sea of girls as he takes running strides towards the cabin.

“Reid! You can’t go out there alone!” Morgan yells behind him.

“Yes, I can!” he yells back, stopping and turning in his tracks.

“Just wait for backup!” Morgan roars, “They’ll help you!”

“I’m not leaving her behind, Morgan!” he yells as tears stream down his face, “I’m not leaving her behind!”

And as he turns around and takes off towards the cabin, Morgan curses under his breath as he turns his attention back to the scared and crying little girls, who have, one-by-one, latched onto his appendages.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Catching your breath quickly as you try to rise to your feet, you feel the unsub barrel his shoulder into your chest, causing you to lose your breath once again as you stumble back, your vision beginning to tunnel as your mouth opens to gasp.

“I said ‘stay down’!” he roars, the spittle from his mouth flying through the air and plastering itself on your face.

Bringing your good hand up and wiping it off, you continue to struggle for oxygen as the tunnel vision you are experiencing then begins to blur, your body starting to waver heavily as the unsub begins to laugh at you, watching as your body slowly shuts itself down from lack of air.

“The biiiig baaaad agent,” he hisses, turning around and grasping something in his hands as he throws it at you, making contact with your knee as you cry out in pain.

“I thought you guys were supposed to be tough. Or, you know...at least _male_ ,” he says, shrugging as he walks into the kitchen to get a knife.

Finally heaving air into your lungs as your vision slowly restores itself, involuntary tears pour down your face as you scramble to your feet, slowly backing around the room as he twirls the knife in his hands.

“Those girls aren’t clean,” he growls, the gravelly tone of his voice catching you off guard.

“Being locked in a basement without a shower usually does that,” you spit back.

“They were born of unholy moments...situations of weakness between two people that should’ve never happened,” he spits, his eyes growing wild at the glistening of the knife in his hands.

“Pretty sure some would say the same about Jesus,” you retort.

And all of a sudden, you were on your back, struggling yet again for air as the unsub straddles your stomach.

“Don’t you blaspheme the Lord!” he roars, his disgusting breath roaring over your face as you grimace and try to turn your face from his.

“But so were you, weren’t you?” he muses, running the tip of the knife under your chin, cutting ever so lightly as a trickle of blood makes its way down your neck.

“FBI! Hands in the air!”

_Spencer._

“Our Father, who art in heaven...”

As your eyes widen, you hear Spencer yell, “Knife down and hands up!”

“Hallowed be thy name...”

Trying to scramble to break free, you watch the unsub close his eyes as he kicks his leg out, sending the coffee table sliding towards Spencer as it cracks him in his knees, sending him and his gun clattering to the ground.

“Thy kingdom come...”

Watching the unsub raise his knife in the air, you finally gasp for one last breath as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

And as four gunshots ring loud and clear into the night, you feel the unsub’s body topple off of you, the knife clattering to the floor beside your ear as Spencer scrambles to you, his hands on either side of your face as he begins to tap your cheek.

“Y/N...Y/N...can you hear me?” he breathes, the panic clear in his voice as you feel something wet drip onto your neck.

Groaning as your lungs finally regulate your breathing, your body’s trembling slowly fading away as your eyes right themselves into focus, you watch as Spencer’s worried face comes into view, his tears trickling off of his cheeks and dripping onto your body.

“Oh, thank _god_ ,” he sighs, bending his head into your chest as he begins to sob.

“Oh, thank god,” he chokes out as Morgan comes running into the room, dipping to your side as he surveys your body.

“Are you hurt?” he asks as Spencer’s gaze raises to yours eyes, stars still bursting in your field of vision as you lob your head towards his voice.

And as you lift your wrist for him to see, his eyes widening as he slowly cups his hands around your swollen, bruised, dislocated wrist, you feel Spencer’s arms dip around your body as he hoists you off of the ground, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he barrels you out of the cabin and walks you quickly over to the ambulance.


	18. The Question

Stepping off of the plane as your body throbs and aches, you feel a strong arm slip around your waist as your body becomes pulled tightly into another.

“I got you,” Spencer mumbles, his other arm outstretched to take your hand and steady your walking.

“Thanks,” you lull, your eyes drooping from exhaustion.

As Spencer furrows his brow at you, your body trying to pull away slightly with every step you take, you feel him stop and slowly twirl you towards him, your eyes watering as you find them staring at his chest.

“Your place or mine?” he asks, trying to dip under to catch your gaze.

“I-...I kind of just...

Not knowing how to tell him that you felt crowded and overwhelmed, you swallow hard as you finish.

“I just want to be alone right now,” you choke out, your lip trembling with nerves as your eyes slowly pan up and catch his.

“Y/N...” Spencer muses lowly, “you’ve been through a lot. I’m not going to let you do this alone.”

“Just...just for a little bit,” you reassure him, your eyes empty as a fake grin plasters itself on your face, your palm patting him lightly against his racing heart.

“Stop lying to me,” Spencer states, his eyebrows high on his face as his jaw sets in place, tears beginning to form in his eyes as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down with every deep swallow.

“Just... _please_ ,” you whisper, stepping back and breaking away from his grasp, “...just a little while.”

And as you turn your back and limp away from Spencer, the tears streaming down your face as your hands begin to shake, you swallow your whimpers as Spencer stands in the middle of the tarmac, his jaw unhinged as he watches you walk away, his heart ripping between running after your fragile body and accepting your personal wishes for space.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knew that what you did was wrong. You knew that walking away from Spencer was the last thing you wanted to do...the last thing you needed to do. You knew that you couldn’t be alone right now. But you had felt this overwhelming urge lean on him. To completely release yourself, and your care, to the abilities of someone else.

...and it petrified you.

Yes, over the past year, Spencer and you had become close. You two went out to dinners, you stayed up all night talking. He accepted your wishes to slow down and fight off the physical need he felt for you in order for your mind to catch up with your heart. You even started sharing a room in the hotels during cases.

And even with sleeping in the same bed, he was a complete gentleman.

But this time was different.

There was a moment in the case where you had convinced yourself that you weren’t making it out. Right as the unsub pulled the knife back into the air that was going to slice through your chest, you found yourself holding your breath and closing your eyes, your mind...in all its urgency...recounting moments of your existence that your brain had plastered onto the lids of your eyes.

Your first _date_ with Spencer.

Your first _kiss_ with Spencer.

The night he came over to help you with your wounds.

The first face you saw after the accident...

All moments with _this_ Spencer.

And that’s when you knew that your life had taken a turn. That your heart and mind had melded together and completely opened itself to the idea that the only Spencer Reid you loved, the only one you talked about on girls nights, the only one that you dreamed of at night...

...was this one.

Your life had been turned upside down, and you had...out of everything that had been thrown your way...been given a second chance to lead the life you had always wanted.

With the person you always wanted.

And yet here you sat, alone, when you had the choice not to be.

The _option_ not to be.

As you slowly lay back into your couch and close your eyes, your aching body sinking into the couch cushions of the seat that smelled like the memories attached to it, you take a deep, ragged breath as your hand slowly reaches out for your phone.

Scrolling through and finding his number, you put the ringing phone to your ear as you hear someone frantically pick up on the other end.

“Y/N?” Spencer asks breathlessly.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you choke out, tears streaming down your face as you close your eyes again.

“I’m coming up,” Spencer says as you hear his keys jingle in the background.

“No. Spencer. I-I...I mean, yes, come up...but I don’t...I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you reiterate.

“That’s why I’m coming up, Y/N,” Spencer coos, shutting his car door and starting for the steps up to your front door.

“No! No...just...wait...up?”

Groaning as you puff out air through your nose, you let it slide as you slowly lean up and put your elbows in your knees, your free hand running itself through your disheveled, matted hair.

“Spencer...I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to wake up in this studio apartment alone, or go to sleep in my bed alone, or eat breakfast at 7 am alone...o-o-or even take _showers_ alone! I don’t want to go another moment in my life without you there. I don’t _want_ to be alone anymore,” you repeat.

Hearing nothing but Spencer’s breathing on the other end of the line, you feel your lip trembling as you draw in a slow, ragged breath.

“So...yeah. That...that’s it,” you stammer.

“Open the door,” Spencer says.

Furrowing your brow as you slowly turn around, you hang up your phone and slide off of the couch, your bruised body hobbling over to the front door as your hand reaches for the knob, twisting it slowly as your apartment door swings open.

And as you take in the sight of Spencer in front of you, bent down on one knee, your eyes widen as your lips part in shock.

“I know that your life has been hard,” he starts, his puppy dog eyes twinkling in the moonlight as tears begin to stream down your face.

“...and I know that this has been a lot to process this past year, but if you don’t want to, you never have to be alone again. I can’t promise that we won’t struggle, and I can’t promise that we won’t fight, but what I can promise is that I never have...and never will...turn to dilaudid, or any other substance other than your beautiful existence, as an answer. And I can say to you, without a doubt...”

Watching him as he rises to his feet, his towering stature hovering over you as you crane your neck up to follow his gaze, you feel him slip something onto your left-hand ring finger as you look down, the beautiful chocolate diamond sparkling amidst the smaller yellow ones.

“...that I will _never_ leave you behind.”

Feeling your chest heave with silent sobs as your eyes pan back up to his, the tears continuing to stream quickly down your cheeks as a smile breaks out across your face, you throw your arms around him, forgetting the overall pain in your body as he holds you close, your bodies swaying in the nighttime as your lips pepper kisses against the crook of his neck.

“You followed me home...didn’t you?” you ask, your voice muffled by his skin as he pulls you even closer.

“Yes,” he whispers, his arms locking around you as he kisses the side of your neck, “I wasn’t going to let you be alone. Not after this. Not this time.”

“Yes,” you whisper against his skin.

“What?” he asks, pulling you out in front of him as a grand smile breaks across your salted face.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”

Watching him smile as he picks you up and swings you around, he steps through the threshold of your apartment, his body warm against your skin as you bring your legs up and hook them around his waist.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, his face buried in your hair as your arms tighten around his neck.

Feeling yourself pick up your face, you catch his eyes before crashing your lips onto his, your fingers trapping themselves within his hair as you catch his lower lip between your teeth, a moan emanating from his throat as you slowly rake your teeth across it.

“Oh...god...” he mumbles, his head pulling back to catch your eyes as they sparkle with fire.

He knew that look.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his breath coming in pants as your broad smile turns into a mischievous grin.

“More than ever,” you muse lowly.

And as Spencer slowly sinks you down onto the floor, kicking your front door shut with his foot as he peppers kisses down your neck, you lob your head back and sigh as his hands begin to slip their way under your shirt, his fingers setting your skin on fire as your body begins to tremble in his wake.

This was the night you would make love to your Spencer.

And it would be the first night that _your_ Spencer, was _this_ Spencer.


	19. Epilogue

“Yeah! We did it!”

“Woo! Here we go!”

“Let’s go get our girl.”

As the cheers and high gives rumble throughout the team, Morgan is the first to step through the portal as he plops down into a backyard, a huge smile on his face as he goes running for the fence.

“Oh my god, I can’t wait to give her a huge hug!” J.J. exclaims as she steps through with Hotch, whose face is set in stone as his eyes pan around the backyard.

“Are you sure this is the place?” he asks, surveying the blow up pool and little tyke toys scattered all over the backyard.

“All of the data the scientists backed up,” Garcia says as she steps through in her black boots, the laces of them falling apart as she slips and almost falls, “Her reading is in this house.”

“Let’s go get my niece,” Rossi says as he starts for the porch, “I’ve missed her so much,” he mumbles.

“You know, all of you owe her incredible apologies,” Prentiss says, hopping through as she takes a look back into the office, “she left because you guys were assholes.”

“We all miss Spencer...” Hotch says, his eyes misting over at the thought of their fallen comrade.

“...but it still wasn’t right to make her the scapegoat for your anger,” Prentiss says, her jaw firm as she stares into Hotch’s eyes.

“I know,” he chokes out.

Raising his hand to knock on the front door once again, Morgan mutters under his breath.

“Come ooooon...”

“Maybe no one’s home,” Rossi states, coming around after looking into the house through the windows in the back.

“There are cars here,” J.J. motions with her head, the two cars sitting in the driveway, “if one of them isn’t her car, then whose are they?”

“I think a better question is, if Y/N is the only one living here, why does she have two cars?” Prentiss asks as her brow furrows lightly.

Sighing with frustration as Morgan rears his foot back, he kicks the door in as everyone stands there, wide-eyed and flabbergasted.

“I miss my best friend,” Morgan mumbles, sighing as he walks through the threshold of the house.

As they look around the foyer, empty cups set on tables and baby dolls leaned up against corners, J.J. yelps as she steps on a lego.

“This...doesn’t look like her house,” Rossi says, furrowing his brow as he shuts the broken door behind them, “I mean...there are children’s toys everywhere.”

“Maybe we overshot the time-frame?” Garcia asks, her eyes darting all over the ceiling as she takes in her high-vaulted surroundings.

“Not possible,” Hotch says.

“You put a lot of faith in these scientists,” Rossi says, his eyes narrowing as he catches Hotch’s eyes, “you better hope my niece is here,” he threatens.

Starting up the steps as the team follows closely behind, Morgan begins to call out your name.

“Y/N! We’re here! We’ve come to take you home!”

Silence.

“Y/N!” he roars.

Pausing at he listens for sound, the only thing he hears is the wind kick up outside, the howling sounds humming lullabies through the cracks in the windows of the house as he continues walking.

“Y/N!?” Morgan bellows again.

Crinkling his nose as a waft of rotting stench hits his nose, he pulls his arm over his face as the team begins to walk up the stairs and into the same odor.

“What the-?”

As Rossi’s eyes widen, he pushes past everyone, careening for the door at the end of the hallway, slightly ajar with a sliver of light pouring into the the darkened corridor.

“Y/N! Oh my god...Y/N, please!”

And as his eyes fall upon the scene in front of him, his voice catches in his throat as his hands begin to shake.

For there...on the bed, intertwined with one another as if clinging for their last breath, were you and Spencer...old and grey...the wrinkles upon your body numerous as the two of you lay colorless and still, cold to the touch and stiff with rigor mortise.

As the team piles into the room, Rossi’s eyes gloss over with tears as their arms slowly come down from their face, their bodies forgetting the smell as their eyes dart around the room.

Garcia sucks in a bout of air as she brings her hands to her face, Morgan barrels past everyone as he dips down to your side of the bed, and J.J. begins to sob quietly as Morgan’s fingers touch your lifeless body, brushing your stringy grey hair from your face.

“Oh, Y/N...” he breathes as his lip trembles.

“You guys...is that...?”

As Emily slowly walks over to the other side of the bed, the tears plummeting down her face as they drop and soak the edge of the comforter, she reaches out with a shaking hand as she slowly pulls the covers back, revealing Spencer’s wallet sticking out of his back pocket.

As Hotch rushes over and rips it from his backside, not bothering to put on gloves, he throws the wallet open as his jaw trembles, his hand flying to his head as a tear escapes the side of his cheek as he slowly draws the license out of the pocket of the wallet.

“Oh, my god,” he wails, dropping to his knees as he reads the name atop of the stiff card.

“Who are you all!?”

As everyone jumps at the unfamiliar voice, the team whirls around as their jaws drop, a man towering in the doorway with the likeness of Spencer, but your beautiful E/C eyes.

But before anyone can say anything, the young man’s eyes pan to the bed.

“Mom! Dad!”

Running towards the bed as he drops to his knees, his hands jut out as his head begins to shake side to side, his lips mumbling “no” over and over again as his face crinkles up, tears beginning to pour down his face.

“No, no, no, no, no...”

Watching as the man takes your lifeless body in his arms, his face buried into the rotting stench of your neck, he sobs into your hair as they turn at the sound of yet another person in the doorway, this time with your likeness, but Spencer’s nose and chin.

“Dad!”

Watching the young woman barrel towards Spencer’s aged body, her fingers dancing across his cold skin as she rears up to take stock of the rest of the people in the room, her eyes grow wide as her jaw drops, unable to speak as the little sound of a child’s voice echos behind them.

“Mommy? Is everything ok?”

As the team turns around, surveying the little girl with curly, bouncing pig tails, she shuffles from foot to foot as the young woman runs to her, scooping her up as she tries to keep her tears at bay.

“Yes, sweetheart, everything is just fine. Why don’t you go downstairs and play with your brother? Huh?”

Putting the girl down as she urges her out of the room, the young woman makes eye contact with Rossi, her body slowly standing upon wobbly legs as she takes in a ragged breath.

“The stories...” she trails off.

As the team darts their eyes around the room, their hearts aching at the bodies on the bed, but soaring at the realization of who the two people are in front of them, Morgan finally steps forward, snot and tears dripping down his face as the girl holds her arms out for him, embracing him tight as Morgan sobs into the crook of her neck.

“You know, the two of you were best friends here, as well,” she says through her tears, her brother chatting in the background frantically with emergency as he bellows for an ambulance.

“You mentioned stories?” Rossi says, stepping forward as the young man steps up beside his sister.

“Our mother,” he sniffles as he wipes his hand across his face, “used to tell us all of these stories of another world, with another team, like the one she was apart of here...where things were the same, but different. She told us about cases you guys worked, and how though all of the heartache and loss, she always loved the other team like she did this one.”

And that was when the rest of the dams burst.

“We didn’t love her the way we should have,” Garcia chokes out, her tears dripping onto her black lace dress as her body quivers.

“We didn’t cherish her the way we should have,”Hotch offers as Rossi grunts in approval.

“I didn't look out for her like I needed to,” Rossi breathes out as tears spill onto his shirt, his hand raking through his hair as he begins to shake his head.

“We have to call Brandon,” the young man says.

“He’s gonna want to know,” the younger girl says.

“Who...who’s Brandon?” Prentiss finally pipes up, her arm draped around a sobbing J.J.

“The youngest. A surprise pregnancy,” they chuckle, “Adam here is the oldest, and I’m Gene, the middle child, and Brandon is the youngest. Mom didn’t have him until she was almost 50.”

As the teams eyes grow wide, J.J. begins to let out a hearty laugh, her smile overtaking her face as she brings her hand to her mouth, alternating between laughter and sobs.

“You guys...don’t you know what this means?” she asks, looking around the room at their startled faces.

“She got what she wanted!” she exclaims as clarity begins to register on Morgan’s face.

“She found her home,” J.J. stresses, barely above a whisper as her eyes pan back over to the bed, looking upon your intertwined bodies and your fingers locked together.

The team could swear that the two of you had the briefest of smiles on your faces.

“They lived and died together...just as it should’ve been,” J.J. muses, a twinkle in her eye as she turns back to Rossi.

“You may have given her away to our Spencer, but you can rest easy knowing he ended up taking care of her for the rest of her life,” she says, reaching out and taking Rossi’s shaking hand within hers.

“He kept good on his promise,” she whispers as Rossi raises his eyes to J.J.

Hearing the sirens wailing in the background, Hotch clears his throat a time or two before finding his voice once again.

“We have to go, you guys,” he says, his voice weak, yet authoritative.

“W-wait!” Adam stammers, holding out his hand as he catches Hotch’s wrist.

“We just...we have a question,” he says as the sirens get closer.

“Better make it quick,” Morgan sniffles.

“In the stories, she never mentioned our dad. Well...the version of him over there. She never incorporated him into the story. And...now that we know that you guys are...real...”

Shaking his head as he runs his fingers through his hair, the little girl comes back up the stairs, her eyes big as she stares at everyone through the banister railings, her little hands gripping around the poles.

“Mommy, there are funny lights on the street, and Jake keeps stealing my toys!” she pouts.

As Gene pushes past everyone to scoop her daughter in her arms, she sniffles as she kisses the little girl on the nose.

But as the team stays silent on Brandon’s question, their eyes flickering towards his as he nods in understanding, J.J. reaches out for his hand as she takes it within hers.

“Spencer was never in her stories, because he was right here next to you all along,” she offers, smiling through her hurting eyes as Brandon’s begins to well back up with tears.

“You guys need to go before they find you,” Gene says, holding out her hand for Morgan, “I’ll get you out the back door.”

Rushing downstairs as she pushes everyone out onto the porch, Brandon starts ushering in the paramedics as the little girl with the bouncing pigtails stumbles behind everyone, her eyes curious and bright as she runs and grabs onto her moms hand.

As Gene’s eyes widen at the sight of the portal open in the backyard, she shakes her head in awe as the team begins to step back through, one by one, offering their condolences and dolling out hugs before stepping from the mowed green grass back into the hard carpeted flooring of the BAU in DC.

Watching as the team turns back towards her, the little girl waving at them with her big, bright eyes and her cute, dimpled cheeks, Rossi speaks out amongst the chaos just before the portal closes on them for good.

“Take care of that beautiful girl,” he says as he nods towards her, his smile getting big as the girl runs up to him, throwing her little arms around his neck.

“Thanks for letting us have our nannie,” she says, placing a light kiss on the tip of Rossi’s nose as yet another tear seeps out from his eye.

“Make sure your mother never stops telling you stories of her,” he says through his sobs, “because she was a wonderful woman.”

“Okay,” the little girl says as she throws her arms around Rossi’s neck one more time, her little body hugging him close as he pats her on the back.

And as Rossi lets go, his eyes panning back to Gene as everyone raises their hands to wave, the portal finally fizzles to a closure as the team gets one more look at the beautiful young girl.

The beautiful young girl with the eyes of their Spencer.


End file.
